Reflections
by Demonatron
Summary: Weary from the long battles and impossibly strong enemies, they found strength within each other. Series of One-Shots based off The Guardian series.
1. Happy Birthday, Mom

"**Happy Birthday, Mom"**

Demona was crouching somewhere among the towers of vehicles and junk that made up her adopted mother's backyard.

She kept a watchful optic on both of her sparklings, Sundance testing her second frame as she flew high in the air, and Flashback as he looked for trouble. The oldest of her sparklings had begun to complain of outgrowing her frame, which meant that they needed to start building her third and final one. It also meant that her little femme was growing up, and although nothing in her life had compared to watching her sparkling learn and grow, it filled her scarred spark with an ache. Flashback, on the other hand, was finally growing into his first frame, on his feet and wrecking complete chaos whenever no one was looking. Odd how a sparkling that had started out so sweet and kind molded into a little monster.

Gears had often said that it was 'all his daddy's fault'. Demona often agreed.

Although they were both old enough to hold their own, and they were given strict instructions not to leave the junkyard, Demona had been almost paranoid about their safety ever since Flashback had nearly been flattened beneath a pile of cars. How he managed to escape was still a mystery to her.

Demona kept tabs on her entire family, feeling Sundance's singing joy from the wind in her feathers, listening to her son's loud thoughts of pranks he could pull on Rex that he was unknowingly broadcasting through the bonds, and soothing her sparkmate into yet another long recharge.

Her physical senses, excluding her optics which were fixed on her young, kept track of her human family. She could hear Gears laughing over some ridiculous remark Rex had just made, Pockets commenting on how moronic the whole idea was and Shark snorting. She could also see Critter...who was approaching her in his wheelchair. Demona cast him a quick glance and called to her oldest, _'Watch your brother.'_

A second later, and the rose red dragon was slamming into the ground in front of him with a roar and a grin that made the younger yelp. Demona repeated herself, _'I said watch your brother, not scare him senseless.'_

Then she turned down to her youngest brother, optics softening. His hand reached out to her, fingers spreading over her scarred red armor. She greeted, "Brother. How are you?"

He gave her a half-hearted smile, "Good. How's the kiddos?"

Demona looked back at her sparklings when Flashback's griping shifted to thrilled laughter. Sundance was letting him scale her armor, his little feet finding purchase on her thick plates as he literally crawled all over her. Sundance didn't seem bothered at all-in fact, the young femme was smiling widely, flexing her armor gently until he rolled back down, still laughing.

Critter watched them, too. She turned back to him, seeing the way how his vivid green optics followed the two as they abruptly stood up and ran off. There was love in them, but also something darker. Demona leaned forward, carefully wrapping her fingers around his body and lifting him out of his chair, "What's wrong, Alex?"

"Mom's going blind, isn't she?"

Her spark twisted slightly, light red optics dimming. He stared up at her face plates, red hair wild as if he'd run a hand through it several times recently. There was a certain sadness in his face, a kind that had been lingering lately, making him appear so much older. He was in his twenties now, a man. He wasn't a boy anymore, but she couldn't help but imagine the human sparkling that had weaseled his way into her spark several years ago every time she looked at him.

_Primus, everyone's aging too fast._

She turned her palm up, curling her fingers around him protectively as he pushed himself up. He gripped her fingers, continuing to stare up at her, "Don't lie to me, sis."

"Yes," Demona said softly, bringing him closer to her chest.

He huffed, turning away, "God, I hate this." He twisted at the waist to look back at the shop, where the rest of the humans and Jolt were. "Moms not supposed to be blind, she's not supposed to get tired. You know? She's supposed to be strong...she's always been strong..."

"Mother is not weak," Demona said softly, "her body could be falling to pieces and she'd still find the strength to get back up and keep walking."

He blinked up at her, almost blankly, "She _is_ falling to pieces, Demona. Slowly, but it's happening. And we can't do a damn thing about it."

The femme vented softly, shifting her gaze to the shop.

"I _know _you've seen it," He pushed, "how long until...?" He trailed off, unable to finish the question.

"Her body is declining," Demona answered quietly after an impossibly long moment of deep thought and spark wrenching sorrow, "I have seen it. She's gotten slower, taking to recharging longer and forgetting small things...I honestly have no idea. She could continue at this pace, or pick up at any time."

A hand pressed against the thick plates of armor over her chest. His fingers spread over thick, ugly scars that would never heal. He swallowed, "Do you think...I mean, can you do anything?"

"No," She said in a defeated voice, "I can pull the injured from destruction, hold off Megatron, defend my family from decepticons...but I can do nothing to save her from her own health."

From the way how his fingers clenched around her scars, the blemishes being wide and tall enough for him to grip, this had not been the answer he'd been expecting. As much as it hurt her though, she could and would not lie to him.

"Ratchet?" He tried again.

"You know she refuses to go back to base, for any reason."

"Then tell him to come here."

"Primus, brother." _It's not that easy. _Because Gears had told her only a few days ago that she wouldn't go looking for help until she knew she couldn't handle it anymore. Demona had called her, for the first time in a long time, 'foolish fragging red headed fleshling'. The woman had only grinned, patted her on the cheek and walked off. The woman was willing to fight her own weakness until the end, alone.

As much as Demona adored her adopted human mother, it drove a pike through her spark that the woman was fragging stubborn, even in matters that concerned her well being.

"I want you to teach me how to walk."

Demona's processor seemed to snap, turning almost painfully in an attempt to grasp what she had just heard. Her spark knew, though, and filled with a shock that bled through her like cold energon. She pulled him away, lifting him to her face.

He stared back, organic optics half narrowed out of stubborn will, like he was prepared to argue. But all the femme could say was, "_What?_"

He reached down and clenched a hand in the clothe of his pant's leg, gaze never leaving her's, "Teach me how to walk. If mom can't be strong, then I will be strong for her."

The hard edge of his eyes left, tears taking it's place. He whispered, "I will show her that there is always hope. If I can walk, then she can live."

"Alex..."

"Please help me, I can't do it without you."

She studied him, looking deep into his green eyes. Long minutes passed before she slowly lowered her hand back to the ground. He crawled down, eyes cast down in a sad show of defeat, like he thought she was rejecting him with the action. When she didn't lift her hand away, he chanced a look up.

"If anyone can give her hope," Demona said quietly, "it's you, Alex. When I had lost my mind, it was your voice that reached me first."

She turned her hand so that her palm was up, hovering close to his body, "If you could stand for me, then I know you can walk for her."

Demona watched as he blinked in surprise, before a slow, soft, relieved smile pulled across his face. He reached out with both hands, tightly gripping the warm metal of her hand, and tensed his body in preparation to haul himself up. Demona caught the whispered, "I love you, Dem," that left him.

She smiled back. "On your feet, brother."

* * *

><p>"<em>God<em>!" Critter snarled as he collapsed to the ground in a tense heap of uselessness. He clenched his teeth, sore hands falling to rub at his throbbing legs. His bones literally ached beneath thin layers of muscle, muscle that wasn't meant to hold up his weight.

In fact, it seemed like his entire body was against it. His arms hurt from the stress of holding on to Demona, his back was stiff. His hips were sore. He huffed, "This is never going to work."

Demona's shadow fell over him, and while any other _sane _human being would have turned, looked, screamed in fear, and hauled ass out of there like the devil's hounds were on their tail, her presence brought him some sort of soul-deep comfort. A kind only she could give. His mother brought him strength. His brother gave him guidance. Demona kept him grounded.

"You walked several steps today," Demona encouraged softly, hand landing beside him. Her fingers splayed in the dirt, and he gladly leaned back against them to take pressure off his spine. He dragged a hand down his face, "What does it matter? I'll never get this, Dem. It's not going to happen."

Before he could even register what was happening, he was grasped in Demona's hand, gently, and lifted to her face. Her optics were soft, as they usually were, but held a certain kind of determination in them. She reminded, "On the day of your creation, the humans said that you would not even live. And when you did, they said that you would never stand."

He fell silent, staring back.

"Today you are not only alive, but strong. You can not only stand, but you can _take steps._" Her gaze gentled, "every thing worth working towards takes time to grow, brother."

"How do you know?"

"Well," Demona began, "I've been around a little longer than you have."

He huffed again, turning away to glare at the trees.

Demona had taken them to a distant, secluded forest. She'd stopped at the foot, where no humans, cars, or buildings were in sight, transformed, and carried them both into the trees until the happened upon a clearing. This was their secret spot-they came here often now, just to practice walking. They'd been working on it for months now. Gears had begun to get worse, but the change was so slow that it was almost impossible to notice for someone that wasn't watching.

"I want you to try again," Demona coaxed softly. He sent her a look and she continued, "this pain means that you're getting stronger."

"It feels like my legs will snap at any moment."

"Sometimes the only thing you can do is believe in your own strength."

"You sound just like Optimus, you know that?"

Demona smiled, "Try again."

Critter gave her a long look.

Despite all of her well worded encouragement, it still felt like his body was on fire from the inside out. He _really _didn't feel like trying again right now, and he tried to convey it to her through his eyes. She chuckled like she understood, turning her hand to scoop him up and set him on a soft spot among her shoulder armor. He held on, finding familiar foot holds and anchoring himself to her. Demona rose to her full height and began to walk.

They walked in comfortable silence for what felt like hours before something heavy began to press on his mind.

Demona was always so patient, almost to the point of where Critter literally wished she'd get upset or something. While she had always been careful around them, she still had her temper. She'd still snap at Rex for his stupidity or flip at Jolt for messing something up around the sparklings. But here she seemed so calm, almost like she'd had any real feeling beat out of her beforehand.

It was then that it hit him.

Critter twisted enough to look at her face, kept almost blank. He could tell that she was thinking though by her optics, seeing the motion flitting through them. He asked, "Can I ask you something...weird?"

She paused, casting him a narrow-eyed look, "What kind of weird?"

He smiled halfheartedly at that. Rex had been the cause of her reaction. After he'd found out about who she really was and became comfortable around her, most of the conversations between the two had started out with 'can I ask you something weird?' The same conversations usually ended with her roaring her engine and him running off cackling madly.

"Like personal weird," he answered. He shifted lightly to get more comfortable, and went on before she could even respond, "you seem...different now."

"How?"

"I mean, just here, when we're working on walking, like it brings back memories or something." He hesitated before taking the plunge, "it has something to do with Megatron, doesn't it?"

His big sister stopped walking.

Critter held his breath, waiting. But Demona didn't move or speak-all he could hear was the soft hum of her body. She was an eighteen foot tall statue. Suddenly, Critter hated himself for bringing it up. _Dumbass, _he snapped at himself, _freaking moron. Of course it's going to mess with her if you bring it up!_

"Is it that easy to see?" She said, so softly that he wasn't sure if she'd really said anything. He blinked, leaning forward a little so he had a better view of her face.

"What happened?" He asked, tone just as quiet.

"To put it short, I pissed him off," Demona answered. She started to walk again, "I failed in my training one day, falling early because I hadn't been able to recharge the night before. I was only in my second frame, and I was tired and weak. When I couldn't stand on my own, he saw it fit to crush my legs as punishment for my weakness."

Critter went rigid, fingers clenching around her armor. He felt his heart drop.

"No mech was allowed to see me but himself, so I had to deal with the injuries myself over night with what medical knowledge I'd picked up over the years. The end result was that my legs wouldn't function properly. He threatened to tear out my spark if I didn't stand up and fight. I hated it when he was disappointed in me-I lived for him, and the thought of rejection was enough to push myself up and stand. It took a long time to build myself back up, each day with him nearby, with his threats and insults. But I did it. For him."

"Why?"

"You can't help who you love," Demona answered softly, "my real mother was offlined the moment I was born, so I gave all that I had to him."

"How did you do it, Dem? How did you keep standing up, every freaking day, just to have him beat the crap out of you? If all he did was tear you apart and leave you to bleed, how the hell did you keep fighting?"

"I wanted to make him proud," she tilted her head to eye him, "it's amazing what younglings will do for their creators."

Which brought the conversation back to him.

She was making her way towards the edge of the forest though, like she was planning on going home now. Critter stopped her with a wave of his hand, "Again."

He caught the small smile on her face as she turned and knelt, lifting him from her shoulder like he was the most precious, fragile thing. She set him down, offering her arm. How she comfortably kept it held up at just the right height for hours at a time was a mystery to him, but it never seemed to bother her.

Critter heaved a sigh before reaching up with his hands to take hold of one of her fingers. He pulled with his arms and pushed with his feet like he'd learned to do. Half a second later, he was standing, albeit a little shakily, but still standing. He kept his hands pressed to her armor, and began to walk down from her finger to her hand, from her hand to her wrist and so forth.

He asked, voice raspy from the energy he was pouring into the act, "You never made him proud."

"He was never a real father to me," She almost snorted. She added when he reached her elbow, "mother will be proud though, very proud of you."

He grinned at her, "I hope so."

"So am I."

_That was unexpected. _He blinked up at her, but she said nothing else. Her optics stayed fixed on him, though, ever watchful to make sure he didn't end up hurting himself. _God, thank you for my sister, _he thought.

* * *

><p>"Over here, mom," Pockets said, taking her gently by the arm to lead her to the pair of card tables that had been shoved together in the living room part of her shop. She blinked tiredly, "Why the hell are you kids dragging me out of bed? It's too late for this shit."<p>

Pockets grinned. Rex asked, "What? You don't want to spend your birthday with your family?"

She sent him a sour look, although it was ruined by the fact that she looked so _exhausted. _His grin faltered briefly, wondering if maybe this had all been a bad idea. She'd been so tired lately, almost nothing could coax her out of her shop now. She spent her days in there with Demona and the sparklings, curled up on the Dodge Charger's hood or inside on the back seat with Flashback. When he was off, Pockets came down to see her. So did Jo. Rex. Shark.

They'd all begun to notice that the rich, dark red of Gears' hair, like dark fire, had lately become streaked with thick stripes of silver. Her body seemed to slump. Her limbs moved slowly. The only thing really the same was the fire in her faded green eyes that had been there for as long as he could remember. But how long would it last? He wondered the very same thing when he noticed that she tripped over something. If it hadn't been for him being so close, she would have cracked her head open on the concrete floor of the shop.

Demona hummed softly, folded down into her alternate. Jolt was pressed close beside her in the same manner, both having opted to stay in car-form to leave more room for the humans to walk around. The sparklings were running round in there, too, along with Rex's and Shark's little girl, Ashlyn.

Everyone was there, raising their voices in friendly greeting when he brought her inside. The only one absent was Critter, who had been 'missing' for a while now. None of them worried, though, since he was almost always with Demona now.

"You crazy kids shouldn't have done this," Gears muttered, though there was a brighter, happier gleam to her eyes. They all knew that she snagged any chance she had to spend with her family, adopted alien kids and all.

Pockets helped her sit down and then pushed her in while Jo started setting things out on the table. It was nothing huge, just a regular baked-potato dinner.

Gears started looking around, eyes scanning around the massive building. She finally asked, "Where's Alex?"

And right on cue, the youngest of his siblings came rolling in, seated on his wheelchair. He pulled up to a spot left void of a chair and leaned over to hug their mother. He smiled big at her, the biggest smile Pockets had seen in a while. She asked of course, but he said that she'd have to wait to find out just why he was so happy.

Dinner went on. Eventually, a couple of autobot holoforms joined them. Demona took the seat on Critter's side, Jolt putting himself right beside her. Demona reached out and took Gears' hand, holding it between her's as they spoke.

Everything went along smoothly, right up until it was time for Gears to open whatever gifts they'd brought to her. She laughed and smiled at them, looking more like the younger, stronger woman they really knew.

At the end of it, Gears stood up to give everyone a hug, reaching for Critter first who was on her right. She stopped and froze like a deer in the headlights when Critter slid back in his chair and _stood up. _

Her eyes were wide, locked on his stable form. He wasn't even shaking, and looked as if he'd never been crippled. He leaned forward, taller than their mother by a head now that he was twenty-two, and wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. The room was full of a heavy silence as every eye focused on them, wide and unbelieving.

When Critter pulled back, their mother was bawling. He took his hands and wiped away her tears, still wearing that big, dumb smile, and said, "Happy birthday, mom."

Gears threw her arms around him, and cried into his shoulder, but there was a special smile on her face, one they hadn't seen for years.

* * *

><p><strong>The first installment of my little one-shot series. These have no real order in which they are written, so I'll probably post ages in the AN at the bottom of each chapter. **

**In case you didn't catch it, Critter is 22 here, which means Pockets is 30, and Gears is 51. Yeah... :/ She's getting up there in years. **

**I've had this scene in my head for a while, since the middle of TLF. I wanted it to be a big event-a major bonding thing between Demona and Critter, as well as a symbol of hope. It's corny as hell, but guys, please don't ever forget that every dream is worth fighting for, even the small ones. **

**Anyway, I gotta catch up on stuff, including The Storyteller. Trying to get things back on a roll. It's been a while, so everythings kinda slow right now. I gotta find my rythm again...**

**Hope you enjoyed. Much love.**

**Demona and her family and the story belongs to me. Transformers does not.**


	2. From The Fire

"**From The Fire"**

"Daddy!" Ash sang, flying into the living room when she heard the door open and shut. Without a thought, her arms opened and wrapped around a set of jean-clad legs. She grinned, squeezing her eyes shut and snuggling into him, "I waited all day for you to come home!"

"Um...Ashlyn?"

That was _not _daddy.

Ash blinked, tilting her head back. She continued blinking, "You're not daddy."

Instead of the deep brown eyes and blonde hair her father had, this man sported thick, dark brown hair that was just long enough to style. His eyes were deep and _blue, _like _electric _blue. There was a confused and mildly concerned look on his face. He was tall like daddy, but he was a bit wider, more solid.

She tilted her head, "Uncle J?"

A soft smile pulled at his face and he knelt in front of her, "Hello, Ash."

She stepped back, folding her hands behind her, "I'm sorry. I thought you were my daddy."

He tilted his head at her, "I'm sorry I disappointed you."

She mirrored him, tilting her head in the same direction, "Hey, uncle J, where is he?"

"He's going to dinner with your mother," he paused, turning his head towards the still open door. His bright blue eyes fell on a pretty blue car as the door opened to allow a big red dragon to climb out and rush towards them.

Ash stared at the dragon, a big smile filling her face. She squealed happily, "Sunny!"

Ash _loved _Sundance. She'd known the dragon for as long as she could remember, and she simply adored her. Sundance was amazing. And although Ash didn't understand why she couldn't go outside and play with the other kids, or why she wasn't allowed to say anything about her at school, but Sundance was still her best friend.

Sundance liked to play. She liked to sing and dance, two of Ash's _favorite _things to do. She'd also dress up with her, and play hide and seek. She was tons of fun, and she made a really good pillow even though she was metal.

Sundance smiled back, "Ash!"

Ash attacked her next, hugging her as tight as she possibly could, "I missed you!"

Sundance sat down and wrapped an arm around her carefully, holding her close. Both girls looked up at Ash's uncle J when he started, "Sundance is going to stay here with you until your parents get back."

"Okay!" Ash said, already pulling the dragon towards her room. Uncle J stopped her though, reaching out to touch her shoulder to get her attention.

His eyes were soft and firm at the same time, "You two behave. Sundance, you know what to do if anything happens while we're gone."

Ash watched as the dragon nodded, stretching up to touch noses with him. He smiled and ran a hand over her horns before he stood up and walked back outside.

Ash waited for the door to close before she threw her arms up in the air in a 'V', exclaiming happily, "Let's play, Sunny!"

Sundance chuckled softly, nosing her gently, "Play what, Ash?"

"Lets go dance," Ash suggested as she turned and took off down the hall. She heard the clatter of Sundance's claws, close behind her.

* * *

><p>The best part about being friends with Sundance was that she never got tired of something.<p>

Ash loved to dance. Her other friends did, too, but they never wanted to dance as long as she did. But Sundance was an entirely different story-she could dance for hours with her without getting tired or bored, and she was always smiling. Ash loved the fact that she was always smiling.

It was nice, since her mother didn't smile enough and her father was always so busy at what everyone called 'the shop'.

The danced for a really long time, until Ash couldn't hardly move anymore. She stopped jumping around and lifted a hand to cover a yawn, "What now," a second yawn followed the first, "Sunny?"

"I think it's time for a nap," Sundance said, using her tail to turn the stereo off. She lowered her head and pushed Ash towards the bed gently, "a great dancer needs her rest."

Ash grinned at her, "You think I'm a great dancer?"

"Amazing," Sundance confirmed softly.

Ash turned around and hugged her before scrambling up into her bed, yanking off her shoes somewhere on her way up, "Hey, Sunny?"

Sundance was settling on the floor beside her bed. She tilted her head, watching her with soft red eyes. She said, "Yes, Ash?"

"My mommy says she doesn't dream anymore." Ash snuggled under the covers, sighing dreamily when Sundance stretched out and used her teeth to pull the blanket up to her shoulders. She blinked down at the dragon, "I think she gave up."

"On what?"

"Her dreams."

Sundance was quiet for a while. Ash, afraid that her best friend had already gone to sleep, rolled over just enough to peek over the edge of the bed.

Nope. Sundance was still awake.

"Have you given up on your dreams?" Sundance finally asked.

Ash scrunched up her face, "You're silly, Sunny. One day I'm going to be the greatest dancer ever, and I'll get to dance on Dancing with the Stars! I'm not giving up! Not ever!"

Sundance smiled softly, "With Derek?"

The little girl giggled, burying her face in her pink pillow in embarrassment, "Yes! He'll be my boyfriend, too!"

Sundance chuckled again, "Then go to sleep, Ash. Maybe you'll dance with him tonight."

Ash continued to smile, watching Sundance as she curled up, big beautiful wings going slack. She watched and studied the dragon until she could hardly keep her eyes open, marveling at how beautiful her best friend was.

Ash woke again later.

She didn't know what time it was, and it she didn't even think about it. The air was heavy and hot, thick. It felt like she couldn't breathe, and in an instant, she knew something was terribly wrong. Ash struggled to get out of her cocoon of soft, pink blankets. She poked her head out and looked around, calling frantically, "Sunny! Sunny, where are you!"

She grabbed the sheets and pulled herself out further, leaning far over the edge.

But Sundance wasn't there.

Her heart started to pound, filling with fear. Tears gathered in her pale eyes, and she cried, "Sunny! Mommy! Daddy!"

She looked at the door, seeing that it had been thrown wide open. Her eyes widened when she saw orange and yellow dancing down the hall, lighting the walls almost dangerously. The strange colors licked up across the walls, some tall enough to reach the ceiling. Her house began to groan, like it was crying, too.

"Help me!"

The tears were falling now as she finally freed herself, dropping down to the floor. She started coughing, squinting her eyes to see through the thick smoke. She stared at the colors, finally remembering what they were called-fire.

Her house was on fire.

She stumbled forward a few steps blindly, trying to find someone. She kept calling for her parents, for Sundance and her uncle J. Even her uncles Critter and Pockets, and her Mimi. She cried for all of them, hoping that at least one would hear.

She moved towards the hallway even though it was on fire, knowing that it was her only way out. She stood staring at the flames with wide eyes. The house trembled, and she fell. Something thundered ahead of her, like a big angry, hungry beast. She saw something fall from the ceiling further down, hitting the floor with a shutter.

Ash gasped for breath, raising small hands to cover her nose. She squeezed her eyes shut to stop her tears, but they wouldn't go away.

She looked again, and her heart soared with hope.

Sundance was leaping through the flames. The fire grabbed for her, trying to pull her back, but nothing happened. Her wings spread in slow motion, feathers glinting. Firelight danced across her rose red armor, and her red eyes glowed.

Ash smiled weakly, opening her arms for a hug when the big dragon landed on the floor, splintering wood with her claws. Sundance bounded forward, wings beating in the hallway. But they were so big they broke through the walls, tearing through layers of paint and sheet-rock.

Sundance crouched down, wrapping Ash up in both arms and holding her close to her chest. Ash hugged her tight, wrapping her little fingers tightly around her armor and digging her toes in, too. Sundance leaned back on her rear legs, calling, "I'm here, Ash!"

Ash gave a muffled answer, snuggling closer to her. She cracked an eye open to see what Sundance would do-there was no way out. How would she save them now?

Sundance crouched down, never loosening her hold, and sprung back up into the air. She rotated her wings and swung them down, creating a gust of air that had the fire jumping crazily. She lowered her head and slammed her horns into the wall, shattering it. The studs snapped like twigs, breaking into pieces that flew out in different directions.

Sundance didn't even slow down, continuing to tear through the wall of Ash's house until cold wind assaulted them from outside. Ash opened her mouth and took in a deep breath, clinging to her best friend with new strength. Sundance glided outside, somehow running upright on just two legs. She kept going and going, clearing distance almost effortlessly. Her claws left deep gouges in the dirt, breaking the flat bricks that made up the path.

Suddenly Sundance dropped into a low crouch, bending her legs at the knees until she was almost sitting down. She leaned down and carefully laid Ash out on the cool grass a good distance away from the house. They could hear sirens in the distance now.

Ash was confused. Why was she putting her down? Why wasn't she trying to get them away?

Sundance fell back down to all fours, lowered her head just long enough to press her nose into Ash's chest, and said, "You're safe now."

_She's leaving me._

Panic squeezed Ash's heart. She reached for her, wrapping her arms around her face and holding her tight. She started crying again, "Sunny! Don't go!"

Sundance tensed slightly as an ear-splitting crack echoed in the air. Part of the house collapsed behind them. Again, the dragon scooped up the girl and carried her, moving her even further.

Sundance set her down again, "Be strong, Ash."

Ash stopped and stared at her with round silver eyes. The sirens were louder now, they could see the flashing lights down the street. She whispered, "I'm scared."

"I'll be close," Sundance promised, "I won't really leave you."

Ash finally nodded, letting her go. Sundance stepped back and turned, rolling her body forward and shoving off the earth. She beat her wings and ascended, vanishing into the dark night just as the first of the emergency vehicles squealed to a stop in front of Ash's burning house.

Ash stared after her, searching. Even when a bunch of guys tried to talk to her, lifting her to the fire truck. She told them that no one else was inside, but her eyes never left the skies. She didn't relax until she caught a flash of twisting metal in the trees, reflecting the firelight almost sharply.

Ash smiled softly, feeling safe now that her best friend had kept her promise.

* * *

><p><strong>Several Years Later<strong>

* * *

><p>Sundance's tail flicked slightly, red optics staring at the sky.<p>

She turned her gaze down to her friend when she felt a small, soft hand press against one of her lethal claws.

Ash was watching the clouds, too, a hand raised to push through her long blonde hair. Sundance could tell that something was on the human's mind, and waited patiently for her to speak. Ash leaned against her after a minute of peaceful quiet, "Do you remember the fire?"

The femme hummed softly, tilting her head as she dug deep into her memories. She had been in her second frame then, and Ash had still been a sparkling. She remembered the strange men that she had sensed running around the house that night. She remembered leaving Ash's side to go after them. Then the fire that happened anyway, the one that burned the house to the ground. She had rushed back inside when she'd smelled the smoke and seen the flames, barreling right through the wall instead of taking time to go in through the door.

Ash, scared, crying, dirty, and weak. Huddled in the hallway and crying desperately for someone to come find her, to save her.

"Yes." Sundance answered.

"I thought you'd left me there, and I was trying to find you...then you just came flying out of the flames like some mystical badass."

Sundance grinned, "As far as you were concerned, I _was_ a mystical badass."

Ash rolled her eyes, "Don't get cocky, Sunshine."

Sundance chuckled, "what about it?"

Ash's face slackened, the small grin gone. She seemed to space out for a moment, organic optics staring out blankly.

"Ash?" Sundance curled slightly, wrapping her thick tail around the both of them. She prodded the teenager carefully with her nose, "what's on your mind?"

"You never left my side that night."

She said nothing, watching the human carefully.

Ash, again, pushed her hair back, "I remember looking out the window, looking out into the dark, and seeing you. Your eyes, your tail, your wings. Even when mom and dad came running into the room like headless chickens...you wouldn't go."

"I was supposed to protect you," Sundance explained softly.

"You did," Ash finally focused on her, "you saved my ass."

Sundance stretched out one of her wings slowly, "Somebody had to." Another grin spread over her face when Ash smacked her arm.

"Do you remember what you told me that night?"

"That you'll marry Derek?"

Ash rolled her eyes, "No, you idget." She paused again, narrowing her eyes in thought, "you told me to 'be strong'."

Sundance turned back to the sky. Beside her, Ash kept talking, tone going uncharacteristically quiet, "I think about that a lot."

Sundance shifted slightly, stretching out her rear legs. Ash slowly sank down into a crouch beside her, hand still pressed against her armor for support, "It felt like my whole world just shattered when mom and dad split. I loved them so much, and I couldn't understand why they couldn't love each other anymore. Mom took me far away from him...and I just wanted to quit. If I couldn't have them both, then I didn't want to live anymore."

A tiny sniffle reached Sundance and she almost shot to attention, raising her head and tilting it sharply to stare down at Ash. The human was _crying. _It wasn't quite a spark-shattering sob. Her tears were silent, rolling slowly down her face. Her eyes seemed blank. Sundance's spark squeezed in panic. She tensed to move, to do _something-_"

"I stopped dreaming," Ash continued with a sharp, humorless laugh, "I stopped dancing. I stopped smiling. I got into my first fights, yelled at my teachers and said my first cuss words. 'She's spiraling out of control', they'd say, 'she's becoming a danger to herself and her classmates.' Mom didn't know what to do. She wouldn't let dad back in. And then, when I was on the edge, the craziest damn thing happened."

"I was walking home when I saw some crazy bastard lighting a house on fire. At first I didn't care, I kept walking. Mom was going to kick my ass if I was late again. And then I heard this little kid crying. I don't know how, but I heard her. And I remembered our fire, the one you saved me from. I had been so scared, but you were so fucking brave and strong."

Slowly, Sundance laid her head down, curling her neck so that her nose was tucked in against Ash's side. She coaxed softly, "What did you do?"

"I went running into the fire like a moron, and I kept running until I found her. She was crying like crazy, but when she saw me it was like this light switch flipped on in her head-she smiled at me like she knew I was there to help. I picked her up and carried her out. The entire time, I was thinking about you. What you did, what you said...and I was strong again."

Sundance hummed quietly for a moment, turning over the humans words in her processor. It'd been years since she'd heard Ash talk like this, the girl took after her creators with keeping all of her pain and demons bottled up inside until she exploded. It was a trait Sundance admired and hated.

"They say that...fire is a destroyer," Sundance said quietly, "that, if it grows enough, it can burn you to the ground. That there's no way to really tame it once it's released. But there's a beauty to it, Ash. Fire will eat away at anything too weak to stand against it. Only the strong can survive it."

She stared into the girls eyes, "You are from the fire, Ash. You survived because you _are _strong."

Ash stared back. Sundance watched as the turmoil in her silver eyes faded away, filling with a certain, soft peace instead.

"Thanks, Sunny."

* * *

><p><strong>A tiny bit of history on Ash. She sounds like an adorable little kid...<strong>

**Alright, so I'm still working on the next update to 'The Storyteller', but no promises on when I'll have it up yet. **

**I'm really enjoying writing these, it's nice to kinda dig into the characters' feelings and thoughts without overdoing it with battles and fatal injuries...I think the relationship between Sundance and Ash is kind of like the one between Demona and Critter...**

**...Annnnd you still have no idea what happened to Rex or why Ash's parents split up. I'm cruel like that.**

**Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed it. Much love.**

**Sundance and Ash and their family and the story belongs to me. Transformers does not.**


	3. We Were Once Sisters

**Usually I don't put A/Ns at the beginning of a chapter, but I needed to for this one. **

**Okay, short and sweet-I found this while rummaging through "The Last Flight" scraps. This is a scene I had planned on writing where Ghost realizes that Paradox is Angelus reborn. Set after Paradox brings Demona home from her little "I'm insane and pissed" trip. I really liked it, but it wouldn't have molded well with the plot I wanted. Surprise, surprise! I found it while going through a mild depression because I missed writing Paradox into the story. So here's a little treat for the Paradox/Angelus fans.**

**I hope you enjoy.**

**Paradox, Angelus, Ghost, Talon, and Spectral and the story all belongs to me. Transformers does not.**

* * *

><p>"<strong>We Were Once Sisters"<strong>

"What happened to you?" Ghost whispered, blue optics carrying emotion for the first time since the birth of the cybertronian war. She stared at the decepticon saboteur, with her gleaming bone-like armor and her fierce scarlet optics. So very, _very _far away from what she had once been. Then again, Ghost wasn't exactly doing too well herself.

This Paradox was quiet, watching her with tightly leashed anger. Her broad blades were still deployed, almost glowing beneath the moonlight. She looked so different...and yet the same. She was still tall and lean, almost elegant. She seemed to ooze grace. She carried herself with a straight back, just like she had before...

"I could ask the same of you, _sister_." Paradox finally answered, "if you touch my sparkling again, I will crush you."

An old, dead spark tightened with new life in her chest. _Sister. Sparkling. Crush. _Ghost blinked slowly, "Your...sparkling..."

"Yes, the one you shot in the spark, remember?" Paradox's blades whirled soundlessly, "I would end your life for it now, but..."

"I'm your sister," Ghost said quietly, "you won't."

"I feel nothing for you," Paradox spoke evenly, "I am not Angelus, I am not your sister."

Ghost couldn't speak until the stranger turned and began to walk away, feeling her spark crack and fall to pieces in her chest. Her whisper managed to freeze Paradox in her tracks, "I told you not to fall for him."

Paradox's shoulders tensed. She stood stone-still. Ghost pushed on, "But you just couldn't stop...you had to save him at all costs..."

"He was different," Paradox argued in a voice so soft she could hardly hear it, sounding more and more like the Angelus she loved, "I loved him."

"Once upon a time. Now look where it's gotten you. You still ended up all alone, a broken shell of what you once were. Your precious mech ruined you...and every thing else for that matter. You see what happened?"

Paradox turned her head to look over her shoulder. Ghost clenched her hands into fists, "Families destroyed, hope vanished, all peace gone in a night. _There is nothing left_."

"What of Talon and Spectral?" Paradox asked after a long moment. Ghost went cold at the mention of her own creators.

She answered, narrowing her optics, "Your _mate _destroyed them himself. Along with the sparklings, my brothers and sisters...he shot through them _all._ But you wouldn't know that...you were too busy trying to _save_ him. He took everything from me...my family, my friends, my purpose, you..."

"And so you became this bitter old slagger who enjoys blasting apart younglings," Paradox turned half way to see her.

Ghost blinked, then smirked, "Like you have room to talk, Angel. Where have you been? Busy being reconstructed after he shot you through?"

"He used his claws," Paradox corrected, "and pulled my spark from my chest. My body was salvaged by some of Shockwave's scientists, and I was rebuilt."

Ghost watched her, like she couldn't quite believe the femme was being so honest with her. Paradox turned and started to walk away again when she didn't respond right away. She warned, "Stay away from Demona, or I'll see to it that your energon stains the earth."

"I guess this war has destroyed us all," Ghost said abruptly, once again stopping the decepticon. There was a weak smile on her face this time around, the closest she'd been to her old self since the offlining of her family, "I guess we all fell apart."

Paradox studied her carefully for a moment, optics narrowed. After a time, she answered, "I guess so."


	4. Put A Ring On It

"**Put A Ring On It"**

"You two are 'together' now, right?" Pockets asked, green eyes focusing on Demona's holoform, which was crouching beside him. She worked without pause, pale, small hands attaching the feathers to the frame.

It had been Critter's idea to make a pair of big ass wings to hang on one of the walls to their mom's new shop. It had been last minute, so the two of them, and Jolt, of course, had been rushing to put the damn thing together before they left to go pick up his mother.

Demona seemed to sift through her thoughts. After a moment she answered, "We are not just 'together'. We are bonded."

"That's like your version of marriage, right?" He continued, glancing up when Jolt's holoform walked into the new shop.

"In a way."

"What do you mean?"

Demona finally stopped working, hands resting on her knees as she turned to him. Her eyes were red, he could tell because she was sitting right beside him. They were a dark red, almost like dried blood, appearing black or brown from a distance. She studied him for a second, "When a mech and a femme bonds, there is no such thing as 'divorce' or 'separation'. A bond is for life, brother. We don't choose who we love-our sparks do."

He blinked, "And your spark chose him."

"It did." She went back to work when Jolt came over to stand over her, watching.

Pockets looked back and forth between the two then said, "You should get rings."

Again she stopped, looking at him. Her eyes seemed a little brighter, understanding exactly what he meant. Jolt, however, was clueless. He said, "Why would we need rings?"

"Just for you holoforms," Pockets pointed at Demona's ring-finger, "so if you're ever out and about and some guy tries to hit on her, all she has to do is flash him the ring and he'll back off. It's like...staking a claim on her, 'she's mine, don't touch', and vice versa."

"I don't see how a ring..."

"It's a public display of marriage," Demona explained, taking his left hand to show him, "or bonding, in our case. When a man asks a woman to be his mate, he gives her a ring to wear, a ring only meant for her. During the wedding, they both receive rings to wear."

His optics seemed to dim slightly, like he was thinking, "I see."

Demona turned back to Pockets, "All it would take is a minor adjustment to our holoforms."

"I don't know if it's necessary," Jolt said slowly, "we are bonded now. I don't need a ring to prove how much I love you."

Pockets shrugged, "Just a suggestion." _God, please don't start sucking face._

* * *

><p>"Why are we here?"<p>

Demona cast her mate a glance, "The shop needs to be furnished."

Jolt's holoform stood close behind her, hands stuffed in his pockets in a surprisingly human manner. He looked at her with bright blue fake optics, "I've never seen such loud humans before."

She gave him a look, "Jolt. You _have _met Rex, haven't you?"

"Primus, there's so many..." He muttered quietly. Demona watched him with soft optics for a moment. He seemed completely focused on the mass of humans all around them, bustling about as they went from shop to shop. It must have been the first time he'd ever been inside a mall.

She pressed a hand to his arm and guided him towards one of the stores, "This way, love."

"I've seen entire medical wings smaller than this on Cybertron last night," Jolt continued, letting her lead him, "just how many humans can fit in here?"

"Enough," Demona cast him a light smile.

Once inside, she stepped away from him just for a moment, scanning the counters and aisles, searching for pieces of furniture and décor. Pockets had made a list for her. She'd memorized them before they left the junk yard, and was now sifting through them in her processor.

Jolt stayed where he was a few feet behind her, looking extremely awkward.

Minutes passed as she looked for things. Her search led her further down the aisle and therefore further away from him. By the time her arms were filled with things, she heard the tell-tale sound of giggling girls. Demona tensed, spark flaring slightly. She dropped to a crouch and set everything on the floor before taking off.

Sure enough, there was a trio of high school girls standing around Jolt, almost trapping him in like a pack of predators. Clueless and still so very _awkward, _Jolt did his best to keep up with all of their questions and hints. _He has no idea, _her thoughts snarled.

Part of her, the most rational piece of her processor, was telling her to slow down and back off. They were just _humans_, and they couldn't do any harm. _Just stupid fragging human teenagers..._

Then there was the much stronger roar in her spark, outraged that any female, no matter the species, would dare make a move on _her _mech.

The conflict in her processor made her hesitate for just a moment. Then she saw the tallest of the three raise a hand and curled her delicate fingers around his shoulder. The rational voice silenced in an instant, and she moved forward.

Jolt looked over his shoulder when he sensed her approach from behind, confused blue optics brightening when she put herself between him and the tall blonde, breaking the contact and looping an arm around his back almost protectively.

The blonde looked appalled, "Who the hell do you think you are!"

"I'm his _wife,_" Demona answered, smoothly reverting to human customs. Their eyes widened and the smallest one, a petite little brunette, stepped back.

"S-Sorry," She stuttered quietly, "Alli, let's go."

The third one joined in, pulling at both girls' jackets. 'Alli', the blonde, didn't budge.

"_Back off." _Demona growled low in her throat, using the tone that had often scared the pit out of the smaller twins. Unfortunately, it seemed to have no affect on the human.

Jolt, in the meantime, was quiet, studying the situation carefully. He'd tensed slightly in reaction to Demona's sudden protection and rage, but said nothing.

Alli smirked, "Excuse me, _princess, _but if he's _yours, _maybe you should keep an eye on him." She then proceeded to rake her organic optics up and down his form, "a man like him is just _asking _to be ravaged."

Demona went rigid and started forward with the intentions of rearranging her face when Jolt's fake, but still strong, arm snaked around her waist and pulled her back. He anchored her to his side, and looked at the girl as she tossed back her head and laughed before allowing herself to be herded away by her friends.

Jolt watched them go for looking down at her. Demona was staring after them, making damn slagging sure that they were well on their way. Jolt lifted a hand to press to her face, "Primus, femme, your sparks in a rage."

She abruptly twisted out of his hold in an almost elegant turn and stormed back to the pile of things she'd left on the floor.

"Demona?"

Demona rolled her optics, _slagging clueless. _She ignored him and started to pick everything back up. Jolt followed her this time, crouching down beside her to take some of the burden himself. He looked confused, "Did I do something?"

"Primus!" Demona hissed, "why didn't you walk away from them?"

He blinked at her, "I don't understand."

"Fragging humans..." She ranted, standing up abruptly when the had everything, "I can't leave you alone for half a minute before-"

"You're jealous."

Demona stopped and snapped a narrow-eyed look at him. A sudden understanding was filling his eyes and he raised a hand to dust at his shoulder like he was brushing away the girl's hand. Demona rolled her optics when he looked at her, expression suddenly bright and _amused. _

_He thinks it's funny. _The sudden urge to smack him hit her like, as Gears said it, 'a bag of bricks'.

"Of a human, Demona?" He pushed, following her faithfully as she made her way to the counter. He kept at it, "...You weren't protecting me from enemies, you were protecting me from-"

She shut him up by dumping the things in her arms and into his. He took the hint and moved ahead, carefully laying everything out on the counter.

"-Other females," He finished, a bewildered look filling his face as he turned completely to her.

Demona leaned against the counter as the guy behind it started ringing things up. She crossed her arms over her chest and clenched her jaws shut. She wouldn't meet his gaze.

Jolt tried to coax her into talking to him with his spark, wrapping her up in sweet, warm love like a thick blanket. Her spark was still hot with anger though, so she ignored it easily.

"Is that all?" The cashier asked. Demona gave a stiff nod then handed over the card Pockets had given to her. As soon as it was all paid for and she had the card back, she grabbed a handful of bags and started out. Jolt swept up the remaining bags and hurried after her like a happy little sparkling.

"Please talk to me, femme."

Demona vented sharply, feeling his real body edge closer to her's in the parking lot outside. She shoved it aside, "Why didn't you walk away?" She snapped, not caring if she was repeating herself.

"They're harmless-"

"I _know _that!"

"You really _are_ jealous!"

She whirled on him them, both stopping in the middle of the mall. She was so close she could feel the projected heat from his body, smell something the humans called 'after-shave'. Ratchet seriously went all-out on these holoforms. They were unbelievably realistic.

Although they were about the same height in their true forms, he was a head taller holoform-wise, so she had to tilt her head back to look into his optics. She raised her free hand and poked him in the chest, "I swear to Primus, if I catch you letting those stupid fragging humans put their hands all over you again I'll-"

A big, irresistible smile spread across his face, one that made her spark warm. She forgot what she was going to say, so she poked him again and said, "What the frag are you smiling about?"

He leaned down until their foreheads were touching, "Nothing, femme," he said cheerily.

Demona raised an eyebrow at him, "There is _nothing _amusing about this."

"Of course not."

"I could have easily crushed that stupid female."

"There's no doubt in my processor."

"If I was still a decepticon I'd have-"

He covered her mouth with a hand, still grinning. She almost smacked him, but he used his other arm to wrap around her and pull her closer until their bodies were pressed together. She glared at him, but he was completely unfazed as he whispered, "You are _so _jealous."

She somehow still managed to cross her arms. He laughed softly, "I love you, Demona."

_I love you, too, but if you don't let me go I will beat the flaming pit out of you. _Demona loosened her posture and he slowly let her go. He kept his arm around her but lowered his hand from her face.

She said, "We're putting rings on our holoforms."

"I still don't see a need to."

"Primus, Jolt, unless you want me to beat the slag out of any female-" Again, he covered her mouth. He leaned down and pressed unbelievably soft lips to her forehead, something he'd never be able to do in their true forms. The touch was awkward but nice at the same time, and she felt her anger drain out of her in one big rush. She closed her fake optics and smiled softly. She eased in his hold, almost completely relaxing against him.

"No rings."

She vented sharply and waited until he was turned away before she made an exaggerated motion like she was going to slap him in the back of the head.

* * *

><p>"You like it, don't you?"<p>

His femme asked, sending him a sideways look as he threaded his hologram fingers through the long, soft hair spilling over her shoulders. His spark was humming in pure content, overjoyed just to be near her. He still had a smile on his face from what happened earlier inside the mall. Now they were standing outside as Demona mad a show out of pulling out her 'cell phone' and making a 'call' to Pockets to let him know they were on their way back.

He answered, "I love it, because it's a part of you."

Her expression softened ever so slightly, telling him that he had spoken wisely. He fell quiet as she started talking to her adopted human brother, voice smooth and lovely. He continued to run his fingers through the thick curls of dark red hair on her head. His processor turned elsewhere, going back to earlier events.

He had felt so awkward and out of place when the human females noticed him and hustled on over to him. He'd been so busy watching everyone pass by that he hadn't noticed Demona had wandered off. Jolt had known that she was still nearby, simply out of sight. And he had desperately wanted her to come help him with these three humans who seemed comfortable to stare him down like he was a slab of meat.

The tallest one had touched him. It had only been a subtle brush of fingers before she was almost shoved back by his mate.

He'd never seen the expression that was on the femmes face before, the dark hatred in her fake optics. She'd posted herself close beside him and curled an arm around his back, fingers clenching around his side almost tightly, like she was ready to jump out and protect him from trigger-happy decepticons.

And he had almost thought that they were under attack...but no. Demona had been jealous. _Jealous, _of all things. Protecting him fearlessly as a mate instead of a comrade in battle, ready to beat the frag out of any female that dare make an advance on him.

Jolt was smiling because it was an odd, but amazing feeling. To know that she loved him _that much, _that she was openly stating their relationship and defending it. He'd never felt it before.

There had been the passion-fueled burn when a bond had torn open between them, when her emotions had flooded through him in a great wave, the way how her spark whispered to his for the very first time. Nothing would ever compare to that moment, or the more intimate ones he'd shared with her, but this was close.

When he had been a younger mech, he'd watched the femmes from a distance, often wondering if he'd ever settle down with one and then wondering just which would be _the one._ Obviously, he'd never spark-bonded with any of them, but he'd never known what it felt like to have such a beautiful femme jealous over _him_ of all bots. He'd seen femmes argue and spit and fight over a mech, who'd just sit back and watch while he stroked his ego over it, but it'd never happened to him.

_And months ago I'd given up on ever finding a femme to bond with. _

"Let's go," Demona said, interrupting his thoughts. A small hand slipped into his, fingers lacing together. They started walking towards their real bodies, some ways into the parking lot. They passed by several packs of humans.

"I still think we should have rings."

Jolt blinked, glancing down at her. _Again with the rings..._

"It would take time, which we don't have. You and the humans are planning on having everything done by tomorrow."

"Excuses," She joked.

He rolled his optics, both real and fake, "Hard headed femme."

She squeezed his hand gently before letting go to 'enter' her powerful alternate. Jolt walked around, trailing his hand over her hood gently. He felt the heat of her armor pulse in reaction. He opened his own door and dropped his holoform inside. Once the door was shut, he let the projection fizzle out and die, choosing to tint his windows instead. Demona did the same.

Jolt was about to pull out of the parking lot when he heard a low whistle of appreciation from Demona's parking space. Blinking, he turned his hidden optics to her.

Demona's frame was slightly tense, just enough for him to notice. A group of high school boys were standing around her, organic optics round. The one that had whistled walked around her form slowly, lowering a hand to drag over her smooth red armor.

Jolt's spark nearly exploded with rage. Clear thoughts fled as the urge to transform and step on them built up inside. He forced himself to sit still, though. The last thing they needed was to blow their cover.

_Don't, _He snarled in his processor like the human boy could hear. The human kept walking, hand trailing over the same path he'd made over her hood before passing her sides. He bumped into one of her side mirrors by accident but didn't stop. Only Jolt saw her twitch the mirror almost painfully. He snarled internally. Her mirrors were over-sensitive, mostly because they'd been torn off too many times to count by Megatron and other decepticons that made the mistake of attacking her.

The femme held her ground though, refusing to budge, even when the slagger paused to rub at an old scar on one of her doors. He gave up with a shrug before stopping at her rear door, leaning his entire body against her to fold his arms over the roof and grin wickedly at his friends. He said, "Now _this _is a kick ass ride."

"Freakin' sexy _ass _car," Another agreed, joining the other as he made a trip around her. The glanced around real quick to make sure no one was watching before the second let out a big laugh, "call me twisted, but I'd rape the _shit _out of this thing."

Jolt went rigid. The anger inside spread into an all-out blazing _rage._ His processor seemed to shut down.

The boy walked around to her rear and took two big handfuls of her aft before grinding his hips against her.

The mech lost it, engine coming to life in a roar that shook the earth and set off several car alarms throughout the parking lot. The boys scattered like chickens, screaming and cursing, and took off like Unicron was on their afts. Other humans walking around jumped about a foot in the air and stared with wide, frightened eyes.

He revved his engine louder before lowering it to a rolling snarl. Demona was still tense beside him. He had enough sense to probe at the bond, checking on her. His femme was fine outside of her own anger.

Jolt pulled out after making sure she was fine, waiting just long enough for her to follow before he shot down the road, disregarding the human laws and speed limits. Demona stayed right behind him.

They arrived at the shop shortly after. He sat and idled angrily in the unfurnished shop while Demona retrieved the bags of items and handed them over to Pockets. She started to go help, but Jolt stopped her with a sharply spoken, "Wait."

He unfolded rapidly, transforming. Before his armor even settled, he had a hand formed into the set of tools he needed. Demona transformed slowly, focused on him. He studied her carefully for a moment, turning the events of the day over in his processor. They said that rings served a purpose-a claim made on a mate for the public to see. If they would help keep her from being handled like again...

He stepped towards her, "Rings it is."

* * *

><p><strong>Some cutesy fun stuff. <strong>

**One of my readers mentioned writing a one-shot specifically for a scene in 'The Last Flight', where Demona pops up her holoform and shows her 'ring finger' to a couple of guys groping her and Paradox's real forms. He suggested writing a one-shot based on how they decided to get them...I think I had way too much fun with this one...**

**Anyway, hope you enjoyed it. **

**Demona and her family and the story belongs to me. Transformers does not. **


	5. Carnivores

**Carnivores**

Shark flexed her fist, pale eyes narrowed as she walked past a few tables and back to the bar, ignoring the eyes she could feel burning into her. She turned and leaned against it as the bar tender made his way over, cracking his knuckles. He grinned at her, "I see you started early, Shark."

She snorted, eyes falling on the limp form of the fat bastard that had tried grabbing her ass a few minutes ago. She tapped her finger nails on the bar, the same nails that had left deep gouges in the drunk's skin when she had slammed his face down into the table in reaction to his advances. She said, tone cold, "You're not thinking about firing me, are you?"

He laughed nervously, "Of course not, Shark! I'd be an idiot if I did something like that..."

She glanced at him in time to see him grimace. He asked, almost tentatively, "But beating up morons is Jak's job...so next time, could you please let him handle it?"

"No promises."

He studied her for a moment, "You don't always have to act like that, Shark."

"Like what?"

"Like you're some damn warrior. Would it kill you to smile? Everyone's scared of you."

"You wouldn't understand, Keith," Shark went back to watching their costumers with hawk-like pale eyes, "where I come from, it's better to be feared than loved."

"If you say so..." He wandered off.

Shark returned to her waiting, dealing with her fill of drunk idiots and tables full of stupid teenagers. It wasn't until an hour had passed that _he _walked in.

She had been busy tossing out another grabby man when some skinny-ass blonde squeezed past and stumbled inside. He was dressed in an old grease-stained t-shirt and a pair of tattered jeans. He clunked around in heavy boots, looking like he was completely out of place. And as hard as she tried not to, Shark looked twice.

Her pale eyes followed him as he made his way to the bar, where he promptly hauled himself up into one of the stools and waved his hand at Keith to get his attention. Shark turned away, dusting her hands on her jeans before she walked back inside and did a round to make sure each of her lot of the customers were happy.

She returned, locking her eyes on Keith and repeating someone's order. She waited patiently, placing a hand on the smooth surface of the bar.

"So are you a waitress or the bouncer?" A voice said beside her.

Shark narrowed her eyes into a glare, turning her head to look at the speaker, finding their newest customer sitting beside her, leaning himself over the bar with exhaustion. His eyes were forward, and his wild blonde hair was long and disheveled, as if he had ran a hand through it several times before. Up close, she could see a number of scars up and down his thin arms, as wells as the weakness in his shoulders. As if he had been bearing the weight of the world for his entire life.

"Both," Shark answered tonelessly, turning her eyes elsewhere. It was all he deserved-he was lucky that he even _got _an answer at all. She rarely made small talk with the customers, or anyone, for that matter. It was a rule she'd learned early in life, throughout the years she'd been stranded on the streets. Talk to no one. Trust no one. Learn to be strong. Survival of the fittest.

She was turning to leave when he said, "I don't care what you are, just as long as you don't toss my ass out the door like that."

She paused, every fiber of her being screaming at her to walk away. She tilted her head in his direction, sending him a side ways glance, "Behave and you might find your way out on your own feet later."

He glanced back at her, meeting her eyes, and she froze.

His eyes were brown.

Not the ugly, toneless, muddy brown, but a rich color made of layers and layers, so dark yet so light at the same time. And they were crystal clear. She'd never seen eyes this color before, but then again, she'd never taken the time to look.

But it wasn't the color that stopped her.

It was the ghost in them. On the surface, they were happy, almost laughing out loud like life itself was comedy. But inside, in the very depths, there was pain, and there was sadness. And it was so familiar, almost like looking into a mirror.

"I'll try but," He said, "usually I'm the one that's starting riots."

"What's your name?" She asked, shocking herself.

He blinked stupidly at her for a moment, like he hadn't been expecting it. Then he grinned, looking every bit like some laughing chimp at the zoo, "Everyone calls me Rex."

_Ironic. _She put her hand back on the bar and said, lowering her voice slightly, "Well, 'Rex', I'm the one that's usually stopping riots."

His grin faltered for a moment. She tried to move away again, spotting a couple across the room. The man was making eye contact with her. He pointed at his empty glass and mouthed the name of some drink. She had it in her hand, and was about to take her first step in their direction when Rex turned in his seat, "Wait!"

She had to force herself to keep going, making her way through her section of the room and exchanging empty glasses for full ones. Rex remained where he was, but not long after their little conversation he had gone back to leaning over the bar with his lanky arms crossed in front of a drink he hadn't even touched, eyes turned down.

Every once and a while, she would catch herself looking in his direction. She didn't know why the hell she cared, but she couldn't stop. And he wasn't even that attractive, just above medium height and thin as a blade of grass, and dressed in some seriously dirty clothes.

Shark was no beauty queen herself, but she at least tried to look presentable when she went into public. But he...he didn't even seem to care. Or notice. Hours passed. He was there, occupying the same chair with the same drink pressed against his hand when the bar was preparing to close up. It was then that Shark found herself, much to her annoyance, walking back towards him.

She stopped a few feet behind him, crossing her arms over her chest and letting her hip push out to the side a little. She said suddenly, making him jump, "What's her name?"

He swung around so fast it nearly made her dizzy, brown eyes focusing on her. He blinked, "What?"

Shark raised a hand to point at his drink, "Most males that walk in by themselves get drunk off their ass because their woman left them for some pitiful reason."

Again, he blinked, "But I'm not drunk."

"You didn't let me finish," She said, eyes narrowed, "every once and a while, one will come in looking like you, who will order a nice drink and sit there and let it go to waste while they let themselves drown in their thoughts. Usually, that means that it's worse than an affair or a little fight. So, what's her name?"

He smiled weakly, "I call her mom."

This time, Shark blinked.

He glanced away, "She's really sick, and I don't think she's going to make it."

Shark forced down a sigh. She had never known a family. All she knew was that her mother had been a hooker, and that she herself was the result of a torn condom. To say that she didn't have much of a childhood was an understatement. To say that she knew how to deal with these things was an even bigger one. So, Shark did what she always did when something like this came up.

"People die," She said simply, "sometimes you can't do anything to save them."

He grinned at her again, although there was little humor in it, "Boy, you're a bundle of fun, aren't you?"

"You're a big boy. Don't waste your time crying."

He raised an eyebrow, "Is this how you usually talk to people going through a crisis?"

"I don't know who you are," Shark said simply, "but you seem like you've been suffering for a long time."

His eyes widened.

"If you got through that, then you'll get through this. Besides. Things always get worse before they get better." She set her last tray of glasses down on the bar and looked at Keith as he made his way over.

He was scowling, "Damn kids keep trying to sneak in...I can't even count how many I've had to chase out tonight."

Shark snorted, "I'm going home."

"Wait!" Rex tried again, slipping out of his seat. He staggered for a second, like he really was drunk, before straightening and offering his drink to her with a sheepish grin, "You can't close up until your last customer leaves, right?"

Both, bartender and waitress, raised a brow at him. He started, "Tell me your name."

"Shark," She answered. He blinked, the expression on his face making Keith smirk.

"Why Shark?"

But she was ignoring him, turning back to Keith, "I'm really going home this time." She raised a hand to wave at him, causing him to roll his eyes, and then she turned and walked away. Rex scrambled to catch up to her, and he followed her out the door. He caught up to her, "Why Shark?"

"Because I have this tendency to kick ass," She stated bluntly, "namely the asses of men who don't know when to back the hell off."

"That's a better story than mine," He started to walk beside her, either completely missing or choosing to ignore her warning, "a close friend's mom started calling me Rex in high school because I ate so much."

"You really got a mom complex, don't you?"

"I guess so. I've never had much of one to begin with."

Shark stopped, the response hitting her like a brick to the head. She paused, looking at him again to see him staring down, eyebrows furrowed. He continued, although she got the feeling that he was just thinking out loud, "I love the hell out of her, always have, but I never seemed good enough for her. Mom always had something to say to me..."

"If she doesn't feel the same way, then why do you hurt over her?" Shark asked.

He gave himself a little shake, snapping out of his little world to fix his brown eyes on her. He actually seemed to consider her question before he gave another grin, although she could see right through it. He laughed, "It's no big deal."

She narrowed her eyes at him then started to walk again, headed towards her hand-me-down little Toyota.

"So have my good looks swooned you enough to give me your number?" He tried, shifting topics as he followed her right into the parking lot like a lost puppy.

She snorted, "What makes you say that?"

"Because I've been watching you the entire time I was there, as creepy as that sounds, and the only time you've spoken to someone for longer than few words was to me."

Again, she stopped. How was that even possible? She'd been keeping an eye on him, too, and not once had she seen him look at her. She eyed him carefully, "The entire time, huh?"

He got an 'oh shit' look on his face. He raised a hand to rub the back of his head, and he chuckled nervously, "Maybe that was a little too creepy..."

But Shark paid no mind to it. She raised her eyes to the sky, "I must be losing my touch."

"What?"

"Usually I know the second someone starts watching me, I can feel it." She looked back at him, "you must observe 'innocent' bar girls a lot because I had no idea you were doing it."

"Let's just say I know this girl that's like a sister to me...and she's _really _good about observing things. I guess I've been hanging around her too much lately."

Shark raised an eyebrow, then turned back to her car. She walked over to the drivers door and unlocked it, "I get here at eight thirty every night."

"I'll be there."

She slipped inside her little car and pushed the key into the ignition, aware that he was still there. She turned the key, waiting for her car to rattle and shake to life. She glared when the engine stalled, and tried again. Rex eased a step closer, watching with curious eyes. After the fourth or fifth time, he said, "You know...I work for a shop not too far from here, maybe I could-"

Shark popped the hood before he could finish, and he happily trotted around to the front of the car. He tinkered around inside before poking his head out from beneath the hood. He called, "Try now!"

Shark stuck the key back in and turned it. The engine rumbled for a minute before something exploded with a subtle boom, sending up a thick cloud of smoke that had them both coughing like crazy. She snapped, "WHAT THE HELL, REX!"

* * *

><p><strong>'Carnivores' was a request from one of my readers, to see just how these two met. It started out well, but turned into something unexpected. It was an interesting write, because I'd never even thought of just how they'd first reacted to each other. <strong>

**That last bit is foreshadowing at it's best. :)**

**Anyway, it's not too exciting but I hope you enjoyed it. Much love to you all.**

**Shark and Rex and the story belongs to me. **


	6. Cope

**Wrote this several months ago but never posted it. Takes place after the battle with Galvatron in 'The Last Flight'. **

* * *

><p><strong>"Cope"<strong>

"Where is she?" Demona asked softly, making Jolt jump slightly. He knew she had been awake, but she had been so still and quiet, still exhausted from carrying Flashback with a shattered spark. He fixed his blue optics on her, reaching out to her through their bond.

She was staring up with a hollow expression on her face. Sad, broken. It hurt him to see such a pain in her expression, so he wrapped her up gently with his spark. She leaned into him, then answered her own question, "She's gone, isn't she?"

Her optics finally shifted to him, turning her head slightly. He knew exactly who she was talking about. He didn't know what to say, so he brought his hand to her helm and stroked his fingers over one of her horns. She shuttered her optics and turned away, shifting to lay on her side with her back to him.

"I miss her."

Jolt started hesitantly, "Paradox...who was she to you, Demona?"

His femme didn't answer. She was still and quiet, and if he couldn't feel her awareness through their bond, he would've thought she'd fallen back into recharge. He could tell that she was far away now, lost deep in her thoughts. He could sense the loss she was feeling, sharp and new in her spark. He knew Paradox meant something to her, though why, he didn't know. The femme had attacked them with the intentions to offline in Gears' junkyard. Then the oddest thing happened. She came back for Demona, traveled across the earth, to help her. And she'd defended Demona since. He didn't understand.

And the two of them fought so well together. Their attacks blended perfectly, with Paradox's lethal speed and Demona's brute strength. When they had taken on Shockwave and Driller, it had shocked him, to see two strangers fighting side by side like they'd been comrades their entire lives.

"She was my creator."

Jolt stilled, optics widening as the softly spoken words sank in. He focused on her again, "I thought...Megatron offlined her when you were created."

"Anger and hate can carry a femme a long ways, love." She opened her optics to stare at the wall, "when he turned on her and threatened to kill me, her anger kept her alive just long enough for Shockwave and his scientists to find her frame and rebuild her."

"I...I had no idea." He hesitated, "and you knew."

"She didn't tell me until after Egypt."

Confusion and anger curled around his spark. He leaned down over her to look her in the optics, "Then why in the pit would she attack you? If she's your creator-"

"She didn't remember anything until after we fought," Demona answered, meeting his gaze, "They replaced her processor with the instincts of a decepticon head hunter." She lowered her voice and abruptly changed directions, "She was an autobot once."

He blinked. "What?"

She smiled slightly, and her optics brightened with pride, "Before Megatron tore her spark out, her designation was Angelus."

Again, he froze. _Angelus? _"Angelus," He repeated, "Angelus the medic? _The _Angelus? Who saved hundreds of lives in the mining tragedy at C-12? "

"Ratchet's first student," She nodded.

"Primus," Jolt whispered, "they say that she was the best of her generation, adopted and raised by some of Cybertron's most respected leaders." He paused to search Demona's gaze, "you're the descendent of one of the greatest autobot medics to have ever lived."

Her smile grew a little more.

Jolt found himself cycling through every memory he had of the deceased femme, from the first time he'd seen her in the junkyard several years ago to the last moments of her life, where she sailed through the air like a white dagger and buried herself deep in Galvatron's spark to save them all. He remembered how he never quite trusted her, how he had secretly hoped that Demona didn't trust her at all. But now, he felt so stupid about it. Why else would the fragging Reaper, famous for the massacres caused by her hand, go through such a sudden, rapid change of spark? What could possibly be so powerful as to change one's very nature, but the bond between creator and creation?

"Jolt..."

He came back out of his thoughts, focusing down on his femme. She was looking away from him, but he could feel her spark pulling on his for comfort and strength. Demona continued, "I...want to know."

Jolt hesitated.

"Tell me how she..." Her spark whispered to him, painfully, finishing what she couldn't say out loud. '_How did she die?'_

"Demona...she didn't go in a quiet way."

"Tell me."

Jolt settled behind her slowly, slipping an arm around her to pull her closer to him. She pressed one of her hands to his arm, fingertips grazing over some fresh scars on his armor from their latest battle. He began, "She was already there, fighting, when we finally reached you. I don't know how she did it or where she found the strength...She was crushed, bleeding, and in pieces, but she'd still managed to wedge her way into Galvatron's spark."

Demona listened in silence. Jolt paused as the image of the white femme, ruined to the very frame of her body, fought. "She was falling. Ratchet got to her just in time to save her, but she only had minutes left before her spark failed or Galvatron crushed us all. She told Ratchet to throw her, right at Galvatron's spark so she could finish him. She sacrificed herself to get to his spark and give us enough time to push him over the cliff."

He fell quiet, waiting for some kind of reaction. Long minutes passed as she let his words sink in, optics half-shuttered and distant.

When she didn't speak or move, he added, "She never stopped fighting, Demona. Not even when she knew she wasn't going to make it back out."

His femme fell quiet. A few long minutes passed, and he began to worry. He knew she hadn't fallen into recharge, he could feel her awareness through their bond. She shifted against him, moving closer. When he looked down at her, her optics were shuttered in a way he'd seen Gears do when she was trying to fight her tears.

"She wouldn't," Demona finally responded, "She was Paradox at first, but I think that as time went, she became more like Angelus again." She paused, closing her fingers around his palm, "Did you find her body?"

"No, just pieces of her armor."

The pain left her face when his last words sank in. She onlined her optics, brighter than the soft red the usually were. Her expression changed.

Demona smiled.

* * *

><p><strong>I think what started this was someone said that they wanted to see a conversation between Gears and Demona where Dem told her about Paradox, and who she really was. I tried writing it liek that, but it came out all crappy after several tries and I eventually gave up on it. But it made me realize that Demona really talked about Paradox to anyone outside of Optimus, and I never wrote just how she found out about Paradox's sacrifice. I'm not sure on the details because it was so long ago, but HERE YOU GO. It's not what you asked for but its SOMETHING. And something is better than nothing when I haven't updated this stupid thing in what feels like forever. <strong>

**GOD I MISS YOU, PARADOX. COME BAAAAAAACK.**

**The best decepticon I ever wrote, I swear. I've got another one-shot in here somewhere written from Paradox's POV, where she realizes who Demona is. I have no idea where it's at...I have so many different one-shots to catch up on. WELP. TIME TO GET TO WORK.**

**Paradox/Angelus, Demona, Jolt, and the story belongs to me. Transformers does not.**


	7. Roses Of The Moon

**This was more or less 'Chapter 2' of '_The Hidden'_ when I first started writing it, before I decided that Backlash was going to be on earth(leading up to him saving Hotshot and hinting that he had a connection with Viral.). After I wrote the part with Backlash on earth, I scrapped this. I noticed that I still had this on my computer, and since I haven't finished any of the other three or four one-shots for_ 'Reflections'_, I figured I'd throw this up real quick to give you something to read until then. These are like deleted scenes. Their purpose was just to establish what life on the moon was like.**

**The title was a name suggestion made by one of my readers/reviewers, Snipergirl0907. I chose it as a title because, well, both parts are from the femmes' POVs, and they're both 'rose red' and because I thought it was pretty. So there.**

**Anyway, enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>"Roses Of The Moon"<strong>

The whisper of her footsteps echoed through the dusty, dim halls. Red optics scanned over the walls but never really focused on anything. After spending so long here, she had every detail of every hall and room memorized. Nothing ever changed here except the bots living inside the old decepticon ship. Her spark was calm, responding to the light pulls of the bonds she shared with her family. Her mech was further down the hall, resting after a long day of scouting the perimeters around their base. Her creations were all out, scattered between exploring the hidden caverns.

She and her mate were alone here. And though it happened often, something _always _came up before they could enjoy it. Hopefully this time would be different. When she stepped into the main computer room, where all commands were given, she paused and placed her hands on her hips. One of her optic ridges raised when she saw the blue medic bent over the keyboard to the largest of the monitors hanging from the walls. She shifted to push her hip out to one side, and gently pulled at his spark to see if he was really recharging, or just trying to relax.

He didn't react, and she noted that the bond was spaced out. She vented softly, slightly agitated that he was out cold, _again. _Primus, the mech slept more than a newly created sparkling. She stood there and watched him for a moment longer, and her expression softened. She couldn't stay mad at him, no matter how hard she tried. She walked towards him quietly to stand close beside him, her red optics trailed over his armor.

It was dirty, and scratched, and coated in a thick layer of moon dust. They all shared the look, even her sparklings, and though it had bugged her for the first few years they'd been here, she'd gotten used to it by now. There was no working wash racks on the moon. To repair one would use up precious time and resources, so they dealt with it.

She touched her fingertips to his shoulder armor, tracing one of his newer scars. She shifted down to dip her fingers beneath his armor to stroke the sensitive wiring beneath when he didn't stir. His body tensed, and he groaned out, "I _swear _I wasn't recharging."

"...Right," She said, not convinced. He straightened slowly, and she said, "If you're tired, Jolt, come to our quarters."

"I was going to, but then I sat down to do something," He muttered, leaning forward to press his hands to his face, "what was I doing, Demona?"

"I don't know, love," She answered quietly, "when did you get back?"

He paused to think, though she could tell he was struggling to even stay awake. "...I don't know," He finally answered. Demona frowned slightly. He drug a hand down his face, "Primus, I'm tired."

Demona curled a hand around his elbow, now offering support through their bond, "Let's get you to bed, mech."

He hummed in agreement, getting to his feet. She smiled when he wrapped an arm around her, and they walked side by side out of the room and back down the hall. He asked sometime later, "Where are the sparklings?"

"Sundance is tracking burrowers underground," Demona began, "I think our sons are scavenging abandoned decepticon ships and playing pranks on the human aircraft and drones that arrived on the moon a few hours ago."

"I'm not surprised..." He said quietly, venting, "one of these days, those two are going to get caught."

She smiled a little more, "They're just bored."

"The humans will have something to say about it."

She snorted, "They've already kicked us off their planet, what else can they do? Send a couple of tanks up in space and scare us off the moon?"

They made it to their quarters. Demona punched in the locking code, and the big doors slid open. She let him go when he started towards the berth. He paused halfway there before he turned around and reached out to catch his fingers on a plate of her armor. She raised an optic ridge, "Jolt, I need to-"

"Stay with me for a while," He said while tugging her towards him, "Between all of our shifts and the burrowers, we haven't recharged together in days."

"My shift is _now_," She tried again, though she didn't fight him when he got both of his hands on her and pushed her towards their berth. "I should be monitoring the-"

"No, you should be with _me,_" He argued gaining some strength in his voice, "because you're _my _femme, and I haven't had you to myself in far too long."

Her spark heated, a warmth pooling through her. Her processor was a mess in seconds, but she managed to keep going. Her voice was weak, though, "If we're attacked, we'll be completely unprepared-"

"Primus, femme. Always arguing." He turned her and curled both hands around her hips to lift her and set her on the berth, then he leaned in to press his face to her neck. Demona tensed. Her body reacted when he slipped his fingers beneath her thick armor. He navigated his way to a place where a piece of her protoform protruded through the wires and cables, and he stroked it roughly.

Demona's hands formed claws on his waist, hissing softly when his touch set her on fire. She curled into him, allowing her spark to sing for him. She felt his faceplates, still against her throat cables, shift into a smile. He pushed her back on the berth and guided her into laying down. He settled over her, hands clenching her armor tightly, then he stilled.

Demona blinked. She loosened her fingers on his frame and pulled at him with her spark, but he wouldn't respond. She whispered, "Jolt?"

The mech promptly rolled over, right off of her to put his back to her and stayed in the position. Demona stared at him, optics widening as it began to sink in. The slagging mech had slipped right into recharge as soon as he'd become horizontal. She watched his back for a moment longer in disbelief before she vented loudly, making no attempt to be quiet for his sake. He would just _recharge _through any noise, of course.

"You get more recharge than I do," She hissed, pushing herself back up, "Slagging mech...what a pain in my aft." She stood up, shaking herself to try to get a hold on her processor and push her spark back down to her chest, "_Primus_, I should have known."

She shot him one last glare before stomping out of their room. She grumbled the entire walk back to the main room and swore, "I'm going to get you back for that, Jolt."

She turned to the computers, lowering her fingers to the keyboard to quickly type in a set of commands. Her optics lifted to the screens as they shifted, showing a detailed map of the moon's terrain. A little bit of relief found her when she saw three little triangles that were crawling across the screen. All of her creations were still in range of the ship, doing whatever they could to stay entertained. Her optics softened as she thought about them, about how much each had grown and changed since they'd been exiled.

She sat down in the chair Jolt had occupied earlier, turning to other computers as she pulled up reports on recent decepticon or autobot activity. She monitored what space was in their range, as well as the Earth. No matter what, though, she always kept a close optic on the screen displaying the energon signals of her younglings, and the bonds she had with them.

* * *

><p>She was smiling.<p>

It felt weird, because she rarely smiled anymore unless it was around her constantly bickering brothers or her creators. It was strange, to smile because of something so ridiculously trivial. But her red optics were trained on the Earth, and she could see the United States, cast in the moon's shadow. It meant that Ash and the other humans were suffering through winter right now.

She knew that Ash hated the winter. The girl had always been so thin and scrawny, with hardly a scrap of meat on her frame, so she had always been the first to freeze out of her family. Ash was probably huddled inside, cursing the weather with the venom only she and her mother were capable of. Sundance wondered, briefly, if the human ever realized that winter brought them closer together, if only for a short time?

She kept her optics on the planet they were slowly circling. She crossed her arms over her chest plates, shifting on her feet. Dust rose up from the motion, joining the layer already existing on her armor. Her tail swayed back and forth behind her in content, and she watched the states for a moment longer before shifting her attention elsewhere. Her processor turned in a different direction, and suddenly a big face filled her thoughts. Narrowed, cruel blue optics and a mouth full of armor-crushing dentals. He had carried himself like a ruthless tyrant, thoughtlessly trampling and slaying his foes.

She shuttered her optics then, imagining. He was so _strong. _He had lifted her effortlessly and carried her. He had shoved her on her aft with a simple lean of his body. Invaded her space, pushed and stepped on her. Some of her most painful memories somehow included him, but so did some of her best. He had stayed beside her, forced her to her feet and made her want to survive again, to move on. She missed the way how he would curl his whole body around her like a living shield, his strength and warmth radiating through her.

Who knew that the king of the dinobots liked to cuddle?

Sundance took a step back, straightening her form. She stood tall in her bot form, the only form she'd worn since the day they'd first set foot on the moon. It was much easier to navigate through all the underground pathways this way, and there was no need for her wings in a place that had no air, so they were folded up and resting in her quarters back on the ship. Her smile faded as she flexed the plates on her back, feeling the ache in her spark from being robbed of flight.

The last time she had flown was that last trip she had made to earth, cloaking herself the entire way so she wouldn't get caught doing something she wasn't supposed to be doing, to go see Ash. She had lingered only for a moment then, though she had wanted to spend days with the human, just to hear her talk and see her smile. They had shared few words, and while her spark sang with the few seconds her nose was to Ash's palm, it filled with pain the moment she left the ground again. Ever since, she had left her wings to collect dust.

But that was alright.

Sundance took another step back, dropping her arms from her chest to dangle lifelessly at her sides. Another step, and suddenly she was falling backwards as her foot fell short of the rocky ledge. She leaned back with her arms open, keeping her optics shuttered as she free-fell into the open mouth of the cave behind her. She floated down much more slowly than she should, due to the vast difference in gravity between earth and it's moon. It wasn't the same as flying, but if she closed her eyes, and thought of warm wind whistling through her feathers, it was close. It was enough.

Sundance twisted her body when her proximity sensors picked up spikes of moonstone that could easily impale her or seriously damage some of her lighter armor. She turned and shifted, moving through the space around her with practiced ease. She reached the bottom a few minutes later, and she moved to put her feet beneath her. She landed in a crouch, body slung slow and tail raised. She onlined her optics again and grinned when she stared into the darkness ahead of her.

Straight ahead was a string of caverns she'd already explored several times, but to her left was the opening of new ones. Her brothers had gotten into a fight inside here not too long ago, and had knocked the wall down in their brawling. Honestly, she swore those two got into more trouble than Mudflap and Skidz ever did, and they were less than _half _their age.

She paused, reaching through her bonds with her brothers to check on them. They were together, like usual, and they were busy amusing themselves by messing with one of the drones NASA had sent up a few weeks ago. Flashback was having a great time, while Backlash was only mildly amused as they waited for the thing to turn it's back on them before one of them started jumping around and another rearranged the scenery. It would whirl back around, but both of the mechs would be gone, hiding in some nearby crater with nothing but their optics and the top of their helms peaking over the edge to watch.

Sundance shook her head at their antics, retreating. She stood up and started forward.

* * *

><p><strong>Actually, right now, I have a <em>'Reflections<em>' update revolving around Rex and one of his pranks he pulls on Jolt, set post-TLF. I've been picking at it for months, but I just can't get myself motivated to finish it. I also started one, by request of one of my readers, a one-shot where Sundance, after her exile, comes to check on Grimlock. That ones also still a work in progress. I'm also trying to weasle out an update based on the conversation between Grimlock and Optimus after Bloodstar beat(or rather talked) Sundance into submission(?). And THEN, theres another one I want to write based on Grimlock's feelings when he realizes that Sundance is being exiled, and that theres nothing he can really do about it without seriously upsetting her(Like what he's thinking when he follows her around like a pissed off little/big puppy instead.).**

**Gah, so many. I need to get started, but work, sleep, and _'The Hidden'_ is taking up all of my time right now...**

**God, I love Jolt. I'm so glad I paired him with Demona. They're too freakin' cute together.**

**Demona and her family, the burrowers, and the story belongs to me. Transformers does not.**


	8. Tale of The Whoopee Cushion

**Okay, it's been awhile but I made a bit of progess. This was the oldest of the 'Reflections' updates I've been playing with, and I finally sat down and finished it because I'm at a loss for 'The Hidden'. Anyway, this one is set after Dear Sister, when they come back from all of the escapades at Diego Garcia...and if the title doesn't give it away, this one will include the whoopee cushion Rex got so excited about finding in the closet on base (Can't recall what chapter, only that its in Dear Sister.).**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy. It's juvenile, but fun, and something I totally expect from the characters.**

* * *

><p><strong>"The Tale of The Whoopee Cushion"<strong>

"Rex!" Gears shouted, straightening up slowly, "boy, if you're taking another nap I will shave your head and brand your ass with a hot fire poker!"

Rex jumped, cracking his head against the hood of Jo's stupid truck. He winced, "Ouch, mrs. James! I'm a workin'!"

"I don't see you-oh." Gears focused her old, pale green eyes on him, squinting slightly like she was staring at the sun.

He raised an eyebrow at her, "Should I pose for ya?" He then proceeded to hike his leg up on the head light of the truck, pushing his hips out and folding his arms behind his head.

"I didn't see you," She said simply, "you're actually working."

"Yeah," He said, "Imagine that. You just goin' blind."

"Don't remind me," She muttered, hobbling away from her new project.

"When is Demona and them supposed to get back?"

"Tonight," she said with a sigh, "and hopefully Optimus will leave them alone for a while so we can be a family."

Rex stood up, watching her as he wiped his greasy hands on his jeans. His brown eyes saddened, "When was the last time Pockets came to see you?"

"Last week," Gears answered tiredly, "and Alex hasn't been by in a month. I miss both of my boys."

"What's Critter doing anyway?"

"I don't know," Gears said simply, "something about him trying to find a job and getting into college."

"And he couldn't do that down here?"

"I guess not." She made her way to the couch, raising a hand to press to her back, "Rex, take a break. Come over here and sit with me for a while before you blow that truck up again."

"I think I got it this time, seriously," Rex started making his way towards her anyway. "Why doesn't she just get rid of the damn thing if it never works?"

"Because it's her daddy's truck."

"Well, I says-" He cut himself off with a yelp when he tripped over something, falling flat on his face.

"Oh yeah," Gears eased herself down onto the couch slowly, "watch out for the box."

"Thanks for the warning!" He snapped, cutting her a sharp look. He pushed himself up, glaring down at the cardboard box, "what the hell is it doing in the middle of the floor?"

"I found it in the back this morning. I was going to look through it, but I got tired of dragging it around."

"Why didn't you just pick it up?" He asked, reaching down.

"Because it's heavy as hell."

He lifted it, eyes widening when he realized how heavy it really was. His skinny arms shook with the effort and he ended up dropping it again to drag it across the concrete. He hauled it towards the couch, "What the fuck is in it anyway?"

"Stuff from Diego Garcia," She answered, turning her head to look at him, "Pockets packed up some things before we left. We just never got around to this box. There's no telling whats inside."

"Let's find out," Rex dropped it on the floor and plopped down beside her. Gears shifted and reached for it, pulling the card board flaps open. The next few minutes were spent picking through the different odds and ends inside. There was some military issue t-shirts they'd borrowed from the supply wing at Diego Garcia, a few pairs of cargoes, too.

Gears raised what remained of her eyebrows when she pulled out a small cowboy boot. "this must be Jo's."

"I remember her bitching about losing one of her...what the hell did she call them? Ariats?" Rex squinted, "whatever the fuck they're called. I says, she shouldn't have been throwin' them around at innocent bystanders!"

"You mean innocent bystanders like you and those two idiots Mudflap and Skidz?" Gears said, "because you three...are _so _innocent. Like newborn babies. You couldn't ever do anything bad or annoying."

Rex grinned wide at her, "Thats right, mrs. James!" He turned back to the box, pulling out a stack of photos that had been secretly taken around the base. He flipped through them quickly then handed them over to Gears. Beneath them was a couple of disposable cameras, both of which had no more shots left on them. He stashed those on the cushion between them.

"What the hell is this?" Gears asked abruptly, leaning down. She dug around in the box and lifted something flat, mostly round, and yellow. Rex saw it, and sprung to his feet.

"Oh my god!" Rex shouted, pointing, "oh my god! He packed it! He _packed _it!" Gears stared at it for a moment, squinting.

Once she managed to make out what it was, she went rigid. A look of horror took over her expression. "Oh, _shit._" She bit out, "its a fucking whoopee cushion, isn't it?"

Rex bent and snatched it from her hands, cackling madly, "Did you miss me, baby? I was so horrible to you-I never got to put you to good use, not once! I says, Imma gonna change that _today_!"

"Zachary Rex James!" Gears started, "if you even _think _about using that to torture my baby girl-" Before she could finish, Rex was taking off, running as fast as he could through the shop like he had a decepticon hot on his ass. The entire way, he was cackling or squealing like a girl that was just asked out by her crush.

Gears huffed, glaring in his direction. "God, thats just what we need...a psychotic prankster with a weapon."

She turned back to the box, which was still loaded with things, and spent the rest of the afternoon going through it. By the time she finished, the garage door was raising by itself, and she turned to smile wide at her only daughter.

Demona rolled inside slowly, frame low on her axles. Gears got to her feet, stumbling a little, and rushed to meet her half way. "Hi, baby!" She greeted, running a hand down Demona's warm hood. The femme hummed contentedly, coming to a gentle stop in her usual spot. There was a soft round of static and suddenly Gears felt the warmth of a body behind her. She turned quickly to embrace the holoform, once again amazed by how life-like it was. 'Human' Demona's arms closed around her, returning the hug with, "Hello, mother."

Jolt joined them, squeezing in close on Demona's other side even though there was plenty of room around her to park. Gears smiled at him, "Jolt. You two look worn out. Has Optimus been dragging you through China again?"

"No," Jolt responded, sinking down on his tires tiredly. "It was California this time. An autobot designated Hotshot landed there, by a place called 'Hollywood'."

Gears grimaced. "So much for the autobots keeping a low profile."

Demona cast her a soft look, "He was swarmed by rogue decepticons the moment he left his pod. Jolt and I were the only ones enroute to his location, so the two of us were the only ones close enough to help him."

"Predacons are a pain in my aft," Jolt muttered.

Gears blinked, having no idea what a predacon even was. Instead of asking, she clapped her hands together, leaning against Demona's real form when her joints started to ache from standing, "Where on earth are you hiding that precious grand baby of mine?"

She looked at Demona expectantly, but it was Jolt who popped open a door, letting a fat and happy little sparkling spill out with a round of happy chatter. Gears walked around Demona's front, "There she is!"

Fixing on her voice, Sundance's small horned head turned to her. Her wide red optics lit up, and she smiled sweetly at her. Gears placed a hand on Demona's holoform when it followed her, using her once again for support, and slowly squatted down. Demona stood behind her willingly, bracing her legs against Gear's back so she wouldn't fall backwards.

Sundance crawled towards her, whistling and whirring in that adorable sparkling talk of hers. Her round belly drug on the floor, but she managed to get to Gears. She nuzzled into the woman's neck, and Gears gathered her up into her scarred arms. In that moment, Gears knew that she was the luckiest mimi in the world.

* * *

><p>"Where's Rex."<p>

Gears blinked, looking at Demona's holoform. She was standing close beside her, arms crossed over her chest and dark red eyes scanning the shop. There was a look of suspicion on her face. Gears shrugged, "I have no idea, baby. He took off earlier like a crack head with a new stash in his hands. Why?"

"It's never a good thing when that fleshling is left by himself," Demona mused darkly.

Gears nodded, "He's a little shit." She raised her eyebrows, "Just be prepared. He got a hold of a whoopee cushion today, and I know he's got something diabolical planned."

"I'm always prepared for his antics," Demona turned her attention back to Gears. Gears met her eyes. For the first time that day, she didn't have to squint to see her clearly. Her daughter was beautiful. She was in all forms, of course. But Ratchet had really outdone himself when he designed her holoform. She was tall and lovely, with dark red hair that fell in perfect waves around her shoulders. Her eyes were crimson up close, and though the color should have frightened her, they didn't. They always made her feel calmer, really. Like everything would be okay. Demona stilled, then asked, "Is something wrong?"

"No, Dem. Just thinking about how lucky I am to have three beautiful kids."

Demona's eyes softened, her special small smile pulling at her lips. She said, "I suppose it comes from our mother."

Gears smiled back, reaching up to shakily tuck her hair behind her ears. She perked when an idea came to her, "When do you have to leave again?"

"Not for another few days."

"Lets go for a drive," Gears said, "just us girls."

"Jolt is recharging," Demona started, "no one can watch-"

"We'll take her with us." Gears' smile grew.

Demona considered for a moment before nodding, "Where are we going?"

"I'll figure that out when we get out of the junk yard." Gears turned away, moving as fast as she could towards Demona's real form. Sundance was curled on top of her hood, lost in her dreams. Gathering her resting grand baby, Gears slipped into the passenger seat. Demona's holoform flickered and reappeared on the drivers side, making a show of buckling in. Gears smiled at the familiar feeling of the seat belt moving on it's own, sliding across her to clasp at her hip.

Demona wasted no time in moving backwards and pulling out of the garage. Gears glanced up at the rear view mirror as they left. She frowned when she caught sight of a skinny blonde kid slinking into the room. He looked over the shop before settling on Jolt with a wicked grin.

* * *

><p>Demona returned to the shop quietly, lowering on her wheels as she left the gravel outside for the cool concrete within. Her optics scanned over the area out of habit, instinctively searching for anything out of place.<p>

She still couldn't see Rex, which disturbed her beyond reason. Jolt was still in recharge, settled low on his tires and still. Demona parked it beside him, taking comfort in the closeness of his spark and the heat coming off his frame. Once she was sure everything was well, she turned her hidden optics to Gears.

The woman had fallen to sleep sometime on the way home, with Sundance piled in the floor boards at her feet. Demona almost woke them, but decided to let the two rest while they could. She knew that as soon as Gears roused, she would be busy for the rest of the day trying to catch up on the different projects scattered throughout the shop. She needed all the recharge she could get.

Demona allowed herself to slow down, her thoughts fading from her processor as she let her exhaustion tug her into her own light recharge.

She onlined sometime later when Gears stretched in her seat with a yawn. In that time, Sundance had moved from her feet to her lap, and was also in the processor of waking. Demona blinked at them with hidden optics before opening her door for the woman. Gears smiled at her dash and reached over to pat her on the door frame, "Thank you, baby."

Then, with Sundance in her arms, she slipped out and stood up. Demona shut her door, attention shifting to Jolt when she felt his awareness through their bond. She reached through to him, caressing his spark lovingly to help pull him from recharge. He responded, shifting on his wheels. Demona, once Gears and Sundance were a safe distance away, slid back and transformed.

Jolt followed.

Demona stood up to her full height, glancing down at him as his armor broke into several pieces. His frame arced upwards, folding in on itself. He wasn't the most graceful shifter she'd seen, but he still held his own slow grace when he transformed. An arm emerged, hand bracing against the ground. He rose.

Demona blinked when an odd noise left his frame, loud as thunder in the shop. Jolt froze mid transformation, body rigid. Gears froze by the couch, wide pale green eyes fixed on him. She sputtered, "_Jolt_! Did you just-"

He tried to move again, very slowly. The sound came again, raising in octaves. Demona stared at him in confusion when he stilled again. She'd never heard him make such a sound before, nor any other mech she'd ever met. She felt her mech's shock through the bond. He was confused, too, and was beginning to worry that something was wrong with his systems.

By the couch, Gears exclaimed, "Oh my _god, _you _did_! I swear to _god _that was a fart. _What the hell._ Are robots supposed to fart?"

Demona glanced at her, "A what?" Her gaze returned to Jolt when he tried to finish his transformation. Whatever it was, the sound repeated. Instead of stopping again, Jolt pushed his transformation routines to move faster, finishing the shift in a flurry of movement. Something like a small machine gun went off, growing high and low in pitch in reaction to the way he moved. He finally finished, standing with his feet apart and arms raised at his sides like he was expecting an attack. His electric blue optics were wide. The sound stopped when he stood still.

Demona raised an optic ridge, "Whats wrong with you, mech?"

"I...I don't know," He said.

Gears nearly screamed with laughter, "What the hell are they feeding you on base?! Those are the raunchiest ones I've ever heard, and I raised two boys!"

Jolt's expression became panicked, "Somethings wrong."

"Have you run a diagnostic?" Demona suggested.

"Yes, as soon as I heard it." Jolt met her gaze, "scans say everything is alright."

Demona raised an optic ridge at him, "Somethings wrong."

He tried taking a step. His foot came down heavily, the same 'fart' sound leaving him. He took another step, legs wide apart. Demona's expression went from worried to amused as he continued to 'waddle' around the shop, every step setting off another one of the odd noises. He did a lap around the building, pausing by the couch when Gears only laughed harder. "I don't see whats so funny." He said, "there could be a serious problem-"

"You've never had gas before, have you?" Gears interrupted.

Jolt vented quietly, "We are autobots. We run on energon, not the gas your vehicles are powered by."

"Not _that _kind of gas!" Gears chuckled.

Demona was about to step in when a bark of laughter echoed in the corner of the shop, where Jo's old truck sat. Demona turned towards it, recognizing the laugh. She vented sharply when she realized who it belonged to, and who was responsible for all of this. She crossed her arms over her chest plates, glaring at the vehicle as a head full of blonde hair popped up in the window, grown eyes shining with tears. She ground out, "Rex."

Jolt stopped trying to walk around, turning to look as well. Gears looked between them, then groaned when she made the connection in her head, "Rex! What the hell did you do?"

Rex just stared at them, silent. Then Jolt shifted. Another one of the wet sounds filled the silence, and the human lost it. He threw himself into the bench seat of the truck, laughing so hard his face turned red and he gasped for breath. His entire body shook with the effort, arms wrapped around himself like he was trying to hold every thing together.

Jolt started towards him, moving quickly. Rex's laughter became silent squeals when the sounds came out quick and short, one right after another. Demona followed her mate, a step behind him in case the medic lost his temper with the human.

Jolt glared at Rex, "Whatever you did, human, _fix it._"

Rex was rolling in the seat now. He managed to shout, "You got the _walking farts_!" Then he burst into more laughter. Jolt started to crouch down to snag him out of the truck when Gears came over, still giggling.

She said, "Its a whoopee cushion. He probably stuck it in your undercarriage while you were recharging, the little shit."

Without looking at her, Jolt brought a hand to his hip and searched for anything out of place. Demona spotted it before he did-a small spot of yellow, completely out of place. She sent Rex a sharp look as she reached around her mech and plucked it out of his armor. Jolt sent her a grateful look, embracing her spark through the bond.

Though the problem was taken care of, Jolt continued to glare at the boy as he gradually recovered from his laughing fit. Demona slid an arm around the mech's waist, coaxing him into turning around so she could walk him away from the human. As much as she despised Rex and all of his pranks, she still cared for the human. Jolt had never hurt a human, but she had a feeling that the mech had been pushed past his limit this morning.

Jolt resisted her for a breath, but he allowed her to lead him away. Gears stayed behind to scold Rex. The mech settled on the floor, optics losing some of their hard edge when Demona settled beside him. She lowered a hand to pick at a few energon stains on his leg armor, and suggested through their bond, _'Revenge is always sweet, love.'_

She felt him grin through their bond.

Jolt never recharged in a room Rex was in again. And whenever he did recharge in the shop, it was light so he couldn't be trapped in any more pranks.

He sat in his alternate, his femme in the same form beside him, as the humans went about preparing dinner. The entire family was over now, and it was loud between all the different conversations going on. Rex and Shark were standing in the kitchenette. Pockets was standing beside his brother's wheel chair, Jo across the way to help Gears set the table. They were all together, and it was nice to see them all smiling.

Though he was still new to earth and the humans that called it home, he had come to know these humans, this family that had taken his femme in when no one else would, and loved her. He had also come to believe that they were his family, too. And he, almost as much as Demona, wanted to see them happy.

All but one, any way.

Jolt had been pranked before. Several times, actually. At one point he had been the twins' favorite victim, and they had nearly driven him mad in the barracks on Cybertron. But not one of the tricks had led to him being violated like the one Rex had recently put him through. Jolt was not a very sensitive mech. He didn't mind when humans touched his side panels or his mirrors, like Demona did. But his _undercarriage _was an entirely different matter.

The little human had touched his protoform, the parts of him that were supposed to be protected by his armor. And it bothered him. If that wasn't enough, he had made him look like a fool in front of his family, and even made him believe that something was horribly wrong with him. Jolt was one of those mechs that was 'slow to anger', as Ratchet had put it once. He rarely raised his voice, unless it concerned the safety of his family.

It had been a few days since the incident, and he was still seething over it.

The food was laid out on the table. Sundance was sitting at the end of the table, in one of the chairs with her clawed hands on the surface, humming softly as she watched them move. His optics settled on her briefly and softened. Then Rex started laughing as he approached the table, and Jolt's attention turned to him.

"I'm hungry, mrs. James!" He called.

Gears snapped something back at him and he laughed again. He pulled out a chair for Shark first, pushing her in almost gently. Then he pulled his chair out and plopped down in it.

Jolt revved his engine the moment the human's aft made contact with the seat. It roared like thunder in the shop, freezing everyone in place. He even felt his femme jump slightly at the show. Jolt soothed her through the bond, but his optics stayed on Rex as the human let out a shrill scream and jumped clear off the ground no less than a few feet. His brown eyes were wide.

Jolt grinned, triumphant even when Rex spun around to glare at him, "HEY!"

Demona came to his rescue, amusement clear in her voice, "You had it coming, fleshling."

Jolt settled down on his wheels smugly, inching closer to his femme as he did so.

* * *

><p><strong>Demona and her family belongs to me, transformers does not.<strong>

**And baby Sundance, all chubby and chattering and adorable. As proud as I am of her now, I miss when she was just a baby. **


	9. Cataclysm: 1

**SO I DECIDED TO BECOME SATAN FOR A DAY.  
>You'll know what I mean soon enough.<br>**

**This is basically a huge one-shot (will probably become a three-part arc) based on a huge "What if" I've been tossing around in my head for a while, which is "What if Megatron killed Dem and took baby Flash when he had her and Critter prisoner in _The Last Flight_?"  
>So. You kinda know what to expect. (Character death and angst. Oh goody.)<br>Bring on the heart-break.**

* * *

><p>"<strong>The Cataclysm"<strong>

**Part 1**

Demona fell hard, already so far gone she couldn't feel the claws that tore through armor and lines, spilling energon across the cracked earth. Her optics flickered, her spark pulsed. Megatron's voice filled the air around her as she was brought down flat on her back. Hands wrenched her chest plates open mercilessly. She fought, but all she could do was push at the decepticon's arms. Not enough. _Not enough._

The world was spinning, and the sounds of her own breaking body echoed inside her head. She collapsed without much of a fight, her spark shattering into a thousand pieces at the thought of what the tiny sparkling within her would become. She reached out through strained bonds, reaching for Prime, and for her mate and Sundance. _'I'm sorry,' _She whispered, touching them one last time. _'I'm sorry.'_

"There, there Demona," Megatron soothed. She felt his claws glide over her shoulder in a mockingly gentle gesture. "You can finally rest now, and enter the Well knowing that I will take care of this sparkling."

_Lies. _She reached out blindly. She couldn't see even though she knew her optics were online. Her hands landed on his jagged shoulder, squeezing weakly. One last defiance. Megatron understood, and chuckled. "Kill the fleshling."

What was left of her spark seized in her chest as scorponock noisily scuttled across the ground. Suddenly, the agonized screams of a human child broke through the clamor. She nearly rose, her instincts driving her to _protect_. Megatron slammed her back into place, "Listen to him scream, Demona! The very thing you left my side for has become your undoing! _Listen!_"

Demona did. Alex's screams was the only thing she _could _hear, and the shrill pitch of them made her broken spark pulse and burn and rage. She felt the change in her energon that took place when her optics shifted colors, when she was supposed to overcome all odds and destroy whatever was threatening the life of her brothers.

Nothing happened.

Her fingers scraped harmlessly over Megatron's armor. Alex's terrible screams split the air for a second longer, then abruptly cut off as his life ended. Demona felt it like a severed bond, and the loss tore her asunder. She would offline in seconds, her core systems were already shutting down. Her spark was so broken Jolt and Prime hurt themselves trying to hold her together. Her brother died, and so did she. Her sparkling was lost.

She had failed.

* * *

><p>Two words uttered in the human speech. Three syllables. One statement. One resignation spoken in a poisonous whisper. He'd never known words to hold so much power, to have such a clear meaning, until they had stretched across the vast distance between them and echoed hollowly in his spark.<p>

_'I'm sorry.'_

The pain came quickly, falling upon him and their sparkling mercilessly. He could feel Megatron's claws ripping him asunder through her, pulling them apart. Severing them. Cutting his spark down the middle and crushing it in his fist. A brief flare of defiance in her before she was completely stolen away, the struggle in her beautiful red spark resounding through him like his own spark beat. She was still fighting, even though she was already gone.

He could see her briefly, his optics wide as the whole world stopped around him. She was down on her back, frame convulsing as the claws of her own creator forcefully pulled her chest apart to harvest the sparkling within.

_'I'm sorry.'_

Jolt was no longer aware of his surroundings as shouts went up around him. Crossfire flashed in front of his face, but he was already down on his knees and falling. His spark pulsed and shrank violently, trying to compensate for the sudden searing loss. He tried to reach for her, stretching through the shattered bond. The pieces cut him through to the frame like energon blades. The deeper he ventured, the colder he became. The hole within him tore and pulled apart until it was a gaping canyon that ran up and down every inch of him.

Above the cries of his half-spark, he heard the painful sounds that echoed and vibrated through the darkness inside. Reason left him. Inside he fell into the pit of his loss and became tangled in his agonized grief. Outside he lay and shook, the most horrible screams of pain leaving him. His frame became rigid, mechanical tendons clenched so hard his frame came apart. The joints and clasps snapped, the sound of his shattered spark filled the air of the battlefield.

The gun-fight ended prematurely as the few autobots in his group flocked to him. Weapons were dropped as hands fumbled to hold him down before he broke himself further. One of them opened a link to base to demand an immediate evac.

The seeker they'd been trying to tear down retreated back slowly, red optics glinting as he studied the scene. Forgotten and wounded, he turned and fled to rejoin his trine-brothers. No one tried to stop him. All optics were on Jolt. His screaming lasted for several more minutes, and the others felt their sparks break, already knowing that their mission to infiltrate the decepticon base had failed terribly.

Demona was gone, and soon Jolt followed. The air above his stressed frame wavered with heat when he at last fill silent. His body pulled inward, taunt as he curled into an instinctively defensive pose. His optics remained online, but they had lost their color and most of their light and would not move or focus. He lay there, completely undone and unreachable.

The autobots grieved.

* * *

><p>The sparkling was screaming. It's anguished cries came out sharp and loud, causing several of his warriors to shield their audio receptors. Megatron frowned, lifting the tiny frame up into the air for careful inspection as he had done it's creator ages ago. And like her, the sparkling fought and clawed, twisting to reach with open hands for Demona's corpse. Bright, <em>vivid <em>blue optics were squinted in fury. Blue optics. The complete opposite of Demona's, who had come out looking more like him than her femme creator.

This little thing looked more like it's father, or it's ancestor, Megatron thought irritably. He had seen those blue optics before, and they rose within him a string of memories from before his rebirth in the pits of Kaon. Megatron shut them out, tightening his hold on the sparkling until it hushed with a startled squeak. Wide blue optics turned to fix on him. Already intelligent, already questioning.

"A bit small," Starscream muttered, "and undeniably _autobot _spawn."

"Given the history of the creators, to keep the sparkling online would be illogical and could result in massive decepticon fatalities." Shockwave toned, single red optic glaring at the tiny sparkling, "lest he grow and become an enemy instead of a tool."

"Given the circumstances," Megatron said, glancing down at Demona's shattered frame, "with the autobots having wiped out over half of our remaining forces, we have no choice but to take the risk."

The femme's optics were just now fading. The white circles flickered, turning back to red as the last spot of light left her tattered spark. Offline. His optics narrowed as he looked her over, his own so-called creation. A tool he had invested so much in, only to have it turn on him. Demona had been perfect for his plans, until she'd met the useless organic creatures that inhabited this planet.

He would do things differently with this sparkling, a mech. There would be no room for doubt, no cause for questioning. Megatron lowered the hand holding the sparkling, as if he were no more than an object, and walked away from the carcass of one of his greatest failures. "Gather the decepticons and retreat. It will take time and precious resources to rebuild our forces, but we have no choice."

Soundwave was already turning away to do his part. Starscream lingered, eying the sparkling that was kicking in his grasp. "Master, how long will we hide this time?"

Megatron felt a hot surge of irritation, as he usually did when the seeker opened his mouth. "As long as it takes," He said forcefully, leaving no room for argument. He walked away, leaving Demona's body to cool in the evening breeze. He stepped in the warm blood of the human child Demona had been so bent on protecting, and said, "You see how weak they are, sparkling? How easily broken they are. The autobots will fall and we will crush them all beneath our feet. You will not be entranced by their weakness, will you?"

In answer, the sparkling spat out a string of enraged chatter, still fighting to get back to his mother.

* * *

><p>Jetfire crouched down, feeling his age in the rust of his joints. A plate of his armor shuddered and threatened to fall from his back, so he reached his free hand behind him and shoved it back into place, pausing to scratch at his aft while it was there. The staggered daggers of his beard clinked together as he made a face, red optics focused on the sparkling. "Why aren't you flying, spitfire?"<p>

Sundance was coiled up in a tight ball of sparkling in the dirt, eyes peeking out from beneath her tail at the sky. "I miss momma and daddy."

"Ah." Jetfire nodded in understanding, letting his aft hit the ground when his knees started to ache. The earth trembled and a cloud of red dirt rose around them on impact. "I see."

The sat in quiet for a while, each basking in the warm sun. Jetfire waited for the sparkling to talk and thought on the on recent events. The decepticons invading base. Megatron using a human to take Demona hostage. The autobots' already scattered in search parties looking for the kidnapped humans across the country. It was a mess, and the sparkling was caught in the middle of it.

Resting his cane against his leg, he patted the dirt beside him. Sundance uncurled and bounded towards him, adjusting her wings as she went. She was half way to him when her body went rigid mid-stride, optics becoming round and unfocused while her limbs stopped moving altogether. Alarm squeezed Jetfire's old spark, and he nearly dove to catch the sparkling as she crashed into the ground and started to bounce across the sand.

She landed in his hands, body slumping down against his fingers. Jetfire shook her gently in an attempt to wake her again, "Sundance!"

Convulsions started to rack her body, frame pulling painfully tight and joints whining in protest. Her claws and tail flinched, curling abruptly. Panic rising in his spark, Jetfire climbed to his feet. He knew what this was, knew the look of it very well. Grabbing his cane, he limped towards the base as fast as he could, clutching the sparkling close to his chest as fear took him.

He burst through the doors, coming face to face with the injured mech designated Wheeljack. "Where is the medic?!" He demanded.

Confused, the mech shrugged wildly, "He left to join the others on their-"

"_Bollocks_!" Jetfire moved for the med bay anyway. Wheeljack followed right on his heels.

"Mech! Whats wrong? Why are you carrying Sundance?"

"Shes going through spark-break," Jetfire huffed out, trying his hardest to keep a steady pace. The footsteps behind him paused before quickening to race ahead of him.

"Spark break?! You mean-"

"_Yes_," Jetfire was accessing the chief medic's communicaitons link number to contact him directly, "it means someone didn't survive." His tone was grave, his spark clenching painfully in his chest as the gravity of what was happening drove home. The sparkling suddenly weighed too light in his hands. She became too still, too quiet.

_Primus, please don't take her._

* * *

><p>The gray wasteland was vacant when Paradox streaked across the dead earth. Her tires turned in the dirt as she braked, burning over the poisoned soil. The stink of decepticon was thick in the air, laced with organic blood and cybertronian energon. She knew it then, even before she finished transforming, that she was too late.<p>

Her spark weighed heavy in her body, number and colder than ever. She walked in silence until she found them. Oddly enough, her visor fell on the organic first. The smallest out of the humans that loved Demona like she was their own. He was broken, his fragile body having been twisted then split wide open. His exposed internals still glistened faintly, his broken ribs protruding through the gore in staggered pale spikes. Carnivorous birds were already circling in the clouds above him, their shadows playing over what remained of the child.

Paradox did not wonder if he suffered any pain. She knew without a doubt that he had. She only worried if Demona had seen it happen, or if they'd been mercifully spared from watching each other die. Stepping carefully over the corpse of Alex 'Critter' James, Paradox's optics searched until they found her.

Flat on her back with her chest pulled open like the boy's, the earth around her soaking up her cooling energon. Paradox stilled, several paces away, frozen as she analyzed everything. Though the strength had left her body, Demona's toe claws and hands were still curled defiantly. She had offlined fighting. A few last drops of energon were leaking out of her empty lines. Her spark was a black, shattered sphere that was already beginning to cave inward.

Paradox lingered on her spark, hoping against reason that it would flicker or give a weakened spin. It didn't. When it finally sank in that Demona wasn't still alive by some miracle, Paradox managed to walk the distance between them. Kneeling slowly, the numbness in her spark shifted to a crushing pain. Paradox felt her face changing, expression contorting into a look of agony as she brought trembling hands to Demona's face.

Her fingers touched the young femme's face plates. They were already growing cold. "Say something." Her words were a weak whisper. "Demona, my...how?"

Paradox knew how. She wanted to know _why. _Her jaw clenched so hard the gears whined in protest. _You were supposed to live. _Why did she have to be the victim? Of all of the autobots, why did all of Megatron's wrath fall upon her? Again and again, since the day of her creation and now to the moment of her offlining. _You were supposed to be free. _

Something strange took over Paradox. Deep inside of her, the ghost of Angelus wailed in anguish as it withered. She moved her hands, easing her arms beneath her. Demona was solid, a compact version of Megatron's brute strength. Still, Paradox managed to partially lift her, embracing her tightly. Paradox shuttered her optics, baring her dentals as waves of dark emotions rolled through her. Her chin rested on Demona's shoulder, jaw grinding when Demona's arm slid free to hang lifelessly.

"You were mine," Paradox hissed, tightening her hold on the femme. "My creation...you were lost but I found you again..." A_nd now you're gone._

"You were mine!" The old rage burst forth from the frozen pit of her spark. Her hands formed claws, fingers pressing between scarred transformation seams. Hate and pain and sadness spun inside of her. Suddenly she remembered the first touch, the first time Demona had moved within her. A gentle brush of her spark, trusting and loving. The hours spent curled up in the darkness, at first hating the abomination growing inside of her then later cherishing it. Whispering to it, loving it, telling the growing sparkling to be strong, to be _good_.

That precious second before her first offlining as Angelus, when she had searched despite her exhaustion for her creation. The tiny red optics that flickered online for the very first time, instinctively looking back. A wash of raw, unconditional love. Then death as Megatron ripped out Angelus' spark.

And here she was again, searching for the optics and the spark of her creation, filled to the brim with emotion. The cycle was repeating. Demona was lost, her sparkling taken to be reared under Megatron's teachings.

_I should have been there. I should have saved you._ Paradox grieved, holding her creation for the first time since the hour she was sparked. And that was how the autobots found them, the Reaper so buried beneath her pain and loathing and sorrow that she held the dead frame of her creation long after it had grown cold.

It took three of the mechs to pry them apart.

* * *

><p>The autobots rolled through the hangar in pairs.<p>

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe came in first, their usually gleaming armor battered and scraped. They didn't come in with their engines roaring as they liked to. Instead, they quietly rolled to a stop out of the way of the next party. They came in, each pair a bit more ragged than the last.

Gears searched through them, confident that her girl would be next to come in. A few minutes passed and the hangar began to fill with autobots too exhausted to transform. Gears' hopeful smile faltered, and she turned her eyes away from the doors to scan all of the dirty vehicles, wondering if she had somehow missed Demona and Jolt.

There were different shades of red, but no rose-red. There were a few shades of blue, but none of them were the electric blue of Jolt's armor. Squinting, Gears stepped out of the line of humans awaiting to greet all of the autobots. She spotted Jazz near by and started towards him. She started to ask him where the hell her kids were when the last of the autobots entered the hangar.

Ratchet came in ahead of Optimus and Ironhide. His lights were flashing, and he raced through the path the others had left open. Hot on his tail was Optimus, pulling a flat bed trailer behind him. The obvious shape of a body was strapped down and covered in a flapping blue tarp.

Gears heart seized. She stood still, pale green eyes wide.

Optimus roared past them in the same manner as Ratchet. Ironhide peeled into the hangar next, carrying another fallen autobot.

Gears watched as the three of them vanished out the other end of the hangar in their mad rush to get to the med bay. Dread clenched her gut like a cold gut. She looked back to the open doors, waiting. _Please, baby. Please come through those doors._

A command was given and the doors were lowered. Raising her hands to her head, Gears pivoted back to Jazz, "Where the hell are they?! Jazz, wheres my babies, where-"

The small mech shuddered before he began to transform. His motions were slow and stunted, and once he was standing upright he winced. Crouching in front of her, a strangely somber expression took over his face and he offered his hand to her.

His accent was smoothed out into a low murmur, "I'll take you to them."

Tears filled her eyes. Something was wrong. _What the fuck happened? Why-where are they?! _She climbed unsteadily into his fingers and he stood back up and left the hangar.

Demona was the first one she saw, stretched out on a berth in the corner, chest open and spark dark. She was splattered with dry energon, her body punctured with claw marks. Gears stumbled, her body shaking violently as her eyes focused on her baby. Broken. Still. The color of her armor was paling, like human skin turning gray after death.

Hear heart shattered.

_Not dead. Just in stasis. Ratchet put her in a stasis to save her. _ Because there was no way in hell she could be gone. How many times had she come in, injured beyond belief? How many times had she clawed her way back tot hem? "Dem? Baby?" She whispered, leaning towards her. Anger filled her when she realized that Ratchet, Wheeljack, Optimus and Ironhide were on the other side of the room, each one bustling around another berth. Why the fuck weren't they taking care of her girl? Why weren't they-

"We're losing them!" Wheeljack exclaimed, desperation putting an edge to his voice as he pivoted to a machine that had been dragged to them. He shook it violently, like somehow it would make it fix everything.

"Optimus, for pits sake, _stay _with them! They need to sense something familiar from Demona's spark if they're going to survive these next few hours!" Ratchet's voice was harsh and commanding, a tone that was reserved for emergencies. A tone that left absolutely no doubt that someones life was dangerously close to ending.

Gears focused on them then, standing up shakily. She braced herself on Jazz's thumb, leaning over it as her bad eyes adjusted. Where was someone on the berth on the other side of the room. She couldn't see who, not until Ironhide moved back out of the way. There was an oddly defeated look in his optics.

_Blue. Blue armor...electric blue...red..._Something caved deep inside of her as she recognized them. The solid figure of Jolt, frame pulled tight and convulsing in small, concentrated fits. Draped across his chest was the limp figure of her grand baby, head rolling lifelessly with every jerk of his body.

"Oh God," Gears staggered, hand clamping down over her heart. It pounded in her ears, become a rapid hammer against her ribs when Ratchet cursed violently and shouted more orders, sending the others running across the med bay. "Oh _God._"

"His spark is trying to find her," Ratchet said in hurried, hysterical words, "-trying to compensate for the loss. His frame can't cope with it-Megatron be damned to Unicron's pit! He has already taken two, how many more will go with them?!"

_Loss. _

Tears burned trails down her face. _Loss. Loss. _

_ Two. _

"What the hell happened?!" She cried, "Wheres Alex? Wheres my baby?!" Her voice rose to a panicked cry. "What have you done with them!"

"Jazz! Get her _out _of the med bay!" Ratchet roared, "This is _not _the time!"

"Theres never a 'time', Ratch," Jazz said, voice quiet, "she has a right ta know."

"To know _what! _Why isn't anyone working on her?! What happened?! Wheres Alex?!"

"Shes gone," Ratchet said, his optics becoming painfully hollow. "They both are, Ariel. We couldn't reach Demona or Alex in time...I'm truly sorry."

Gears stared. The world slowed down, the noise of the mechs rushing to save Jolt fell to a low drone of a sound in her ears. The words cut, but slowly. At first she couldn't understand. No one took the time to explain as ever effort went towards the blue mech and her red grand daughter. Jazz said something, but she couldn't understand it over the sound of her entire world falling to pieces.

Somehow she found herself looking at Demona again, laid flat on her back with her chest plates _open, _her spark _dark, _her armor _gray. _

_Loss. Two. _

And for perhaps the first time, Gears saw the glossy face of a black bag, tucked so carefully in the space between Demona's arm and her body. Every thing narrowed to a thin path, and she couldn't take her eyes away.

Then she was moving, Jazz somehow knowing that she had finally seen it. Very gently, she was set down on Demona's arm. Gears flinched at how cold the colorless armor was. Slowly, she slid down, keeping one hand on her angel's wrist for support until she could see. The bag was small, child-sized. Her hands shook when she sat down at the head and gripped the zipper. Gears became very still for a moment, lost in the storm of torment with in her. Then she pulled it down. Down past a greasy, bloody mess of red hair. A face. A face she knew, eyes closed in a calm expression and jaw slack. Spotted and streaked with the same stuff in his hair. An angel painted in blood.

A weak cry ripped its way from her throat. Gears' heart withered, caving inward on itself. Her hands shook more violently as she placed them on his face, feeling him cold and stiff. A low moan of pain, and she was crying. Her body became rigid with pain as Gears pressed heart-broken kisses to his forehead, hoping with every inch of her being that he would wake and smile at her.

He didn't.

Gears cried and screamed and cursed and begged until she was taken away, and even long after she'd been carried from the room. She barely had sense of her surroundings. Passing autobots averted their optics, and Jazz held her close to his spark in hopes of soothing her with it's pulse.

* * *

><p>When Sundance came online, it was in pieces. Parts of her came alive one at a time, and even before her processor was functioning she knew that something was horribly wrong. There was a massive rift in her spark, a canyon that had once been full of love and warmth and safety. Now it was a pit, wide and cold and painful. It ached like an open wound, but she somehow knew that it wouldn't heal like one. It would never close back up. The ragged edges could never be welded back together.<p>

And it _hurt._

Her body trembled with the pain. She was cold. The fire inside of her that usually kept her warm was snuffed out, and she couldn't grasp why. _Why _was she so empty? _Why _was there so much pain?

She reached for her creators, stretching past the frozen isolation she'd waken to. She called for them, her voice echoing in the void. She found no one. Panic rose up inside of her like a black flood, consuming every part of her when she reached for them again. One spark was separated by an impossible distance, shining faintly in the distance through the swirling chaos of his own grief.

The other was a blackened wasteland, a bond that was agony to to reach through, with no light to clear out the shadows. _Gone. _

Her mother was gone.

Sundance keened, reverting to her sparkling-speak as she curled tighter into herself and tried to make sense of what was happening. She tried to cross the darkness, to reach her mom and hear her voice and feel her spark. _Gone. _There was nothing there. Nothing left, not even a shard or flicker of her spark.

_Gone. _

_ How_? Sundance, distraught and quickly losing any hope, turned to look the other way. She needed _him. _She needed to feel him, to see the shine of his spark and feel its warmth. The loss of her mother was consuming her, and she needed him to hold her before she was lost, too. The pain inside of her was overwhelming. She reached for him, sending her desperation through the bond.

He was there, still online, but only silence met her cry. She tried to cross the distance between them, but the shards of him cut her deep all over until her damaged spark was bleeding. Again and again she tried to get to him. She called for him within their bond and out loud, her small voice filling the tiny quarantine room.

He never reached back, never responded.

Every failure had her drawing deeper within herself. She wrapped herself into a tighter ball, perched on her father's scarred chest plates. So close, yet so far away. Sundance tried until she was all in pieces, then allowed herself to rest. _I will try again. _And she did.

Her father remained silent and still, and Sundance, in her grieving, began to realize that she had lost him, too.

* * *

><p>There was nothing worse than watching someone break.<p>

Jo sat on the edge of Pockets' hospital bed in the infirmary, blue eyes fixed on his face. He was gazing back, his own eyes a thousand different shades of green. They were open, but he wasn't seeing anything. He was breathing, but the life was leaving him. He broke in pieces, and she could see the thin cracks spiderweb across him through his face. At first it was just a flinch, when she first shook him, very _gently, _awake.

_"Optimus us back...Yes, they found them. No...they're not alright."_

It was all she had to say. He had stared hard at her, searching her face and finding what he needed to know in the tear-stains on her cheeks. He had known, and he had cracked. His fingers twitched against her clasped hands. A few minutes passed, and he seemed to sink deeper into the mattress. He licked his lips but said nothing, then he stilled altogether. His chest still rose and fell with each shallow breath of air, but she could tell that the world had stopped.

Jo watched as he crumbled away into dust, all of the light that dimmed inside him. _I'm sorry, _she wanted to say. _This wasn't supposed to happen-I can't even...I just can't imagine. I'm so sorry._

She wondered if she should tell him that his brother and sister were in a better place now, if telling him that they weren't in pain anymore would give him any comfort at all. His hand went slack in hers, and she knew that it wouldn't. So she said nothing, staying where she was, holding his hand and watching him as he died a thousand times inside.

The minutes stretched into an hour. When he still hadn't moved or spoken, Jo leaned over him to press a soft kiss to his forehead, gently pushing her fingers through his thick red hair. Only then did he close his eyes, and the first tear slipped free. His face screwed up in pain, his mouth opened in a silent cry of agony. Jo held him, being careful not to jostle his broken bones. His breaths became sharp and ragged, and he started to chant a desperate prayer.

"God, please no, don't let this...this isn't happening, they're okay. God protect them, bring them home, God tell me they're okay. _Please_."

Jo cried softly with her face pressed against his neck.

Eventually, the medics came in to pump him full of numbing painkillers until he slipped into a fitful sleep. Jo sat with him, pushing trembling hands through her hair. Eventually, late into the night, someone shuffled their way into the infirmary. Jo turned and saw Gears dragging herself through the room, looking about blindly. She had a hand clenched to her chest like she was trying to hold her heart together.

Jo swallowed thickly before speaking up, "Over here, Gears."

The woman jolted like she'd been struck and started towards her. There was a hollowness in her reddened eyes, and they glinted with the rawest sort of agony. Broken in places that could never heal.

Gears stumbled her way to the hospital bed, shaking hands reaching out to pat around weakly for the mattress. Once she found it, she managed to crawl up into it and curled into a tight ball against her last child, too weak to cry but to distraught to sleep. Gears' pale green eyes stayed open, red and puffy from all of the hours spent crying.

Jo swallowed thickly and reached over to smooth a hand over the older woman's graying hair. She stilled when Gears took her hand in both of hers and held it to her chest, keeping her anchored to them both.

Jo watched over them both in silence.

* * *

><p>Optimus had never felt such a vast emptiness before.<p>

His exhausted optics rested on the still frame of the femme, spread out on a berth in the middle of the med bay. The alloys of her frame were already beginning to corrode. She had lost some of her color, and the open cavern of her chest glared back at him. One of the hardest things he'd ever done was look at her in this state. But he couldn't turn away, and he couldn't leave her side. His spark demanded that he stay, unbalanced and clattering against its casing painfully from the loss.

His first bond, not so much as closed down as ripped wide open, leaving him bare. Cold threatened to take over in her absence, and it took everything Optimus had to fight it. Somehow, being here in the room with her corpse, helped him. As if she were still online, and fighting to keep his broken spark protected.

_Primus, why? _The war had consumed planets. It had outlasted ages, destroyed entire species. So much destruction, so much fighting, and he had felt every loss but none like this. Demona was too young, too gentle and too dear to his spark to have become such a tragic casualty. Optimus was never one to pick favorites. Every sentient creature was equal in his optics, as they had been in hers. Yet she...she had been his strength for so long. Now it was gone.

_Why. _Optimus vented, a long, exhausted exhale of air. Despite what everyone seemed to believe, he didn't know what to do, and he didn't know how to handle this. Over the ages, he had learned at one point to let go of things with the comfort of knowing it was the will of Primus. A few times, though, he had questioned him. He did so now, as he stood there in the heavy silence of a vacant med bay.

Vacant, because Jolt had come a part like demolition, and was in quarantine with Sundance in a monitored room down the hall, away from the cold frame of his bonded. Vacant, because Gears had screamed and cried until she collapsed from exhaustion and she was taken away to the human infirmary to rest with her remaining son. Vacant, because many of the autobots had come to trust Demona, but none of them lingered to pay their respects after they looked into their Prime's optics.

Elita had herself wrapped so tight around his spark it was constricting, trying to keep him protected. Optimus knew that she was trying her hardest to fill the emptiness inside of him, but he was still so cold and distant. His processor wouldn't rest. Over and over again, he thought about the first time he had seen his adopted creation.

So fiercely proud, young and full of fire. Full of life.

He followed the thought, sifting through his memories in the same manner he'd been doing for the past forty-eight hours. He didn't move to acknowledge Ratchet when the med bay doors slid open and the older mech scuffed his way inside.

Ratchet made a sound of exhausted irritation, "Optimus. I told you to get some recharge."

_I can't. _Optimus narrowed his optics. Instead, he asked, "How are they?"

"Not good," Ratchet said, moving slowly about the med bay. Optimus shifted his gaze from Demona long enough to gauge the medic's condition. Ratchet looked as exhausted as he felt. There was a slight hitch in his stride, his shoulders stooping a bit low like he was carrying some great weight. Ratchet still appeared alert, lifting various data pads from a sterilized container. Approaching Optimus, he stopped just short of reaching Demona's berth. He spread the tablets out across the clear berth, casting a pained glance in her direction briefly.

"Sundance seems to be doing marginally better than Jolt. She is responsive, at least, and she even tries talking to Jolt once or twice every few hours. She won't talk to anyone else. I think that in time, if Jolt himself recovers, she'll be okay."

_She'll be 'okay'. _ Optimus frowned slightly. _She'll never be as she was. Neither will Jolt, or Gears, or her son... _"Jolt?" He pressed. "Has he responded at all to you?"

Ratchet paused. Optimus saw it when the medic's shoulders slumped down in defeat. "No." His voice was oddly quiet, and his optics seemed to dim as he grew an age older before Optimus' very optics. "Jolt is a ghost. With only half of a spark, its to be expected. His behavior is normal for a mech in his position. It's a shock that he hasn't offlined yet, the only explanation is Sundance's presence."

"Ratchet."

The older mech braced his hands against the berth, leaning against it. Slowly, Ratchet shook his head. "I don't know if he'll survive this, Optimus. He's so broken he doesn't even respond to his sparkling. He doesn't move from the berth, his optics are lit but they don't follow. He doesn't refuel. He doesn't speak. He's just...a shell. _Pits._" A shuddering intake, and for a moment it was clear how horribly this frightened the chief medic. "I've seen it happen so many times during the war...I never considered it happening to one of my students."

Optimus tore himself away from Demona's side for the first time since they brought her to base. He approached Ratchet, placing a comforting hand on his arm. He said nothing, knowing in his spark that nothing he had to offer would ever be enough to ease the pain. Ratchet visibly wrestled his emotions under control. A steady intake, and he was back to the data pads. "Have you heard anything from Paradox?"

"No," Optimus lowered his hand again, "no one has seen or heard from her since we found them." He recoiled from the memory. He had felt it the moment Demona had perished, but when he saw her body, lifeless and cold as Paradox embraced it in her grief, it had made everything so much more real.

"We need to keep searching. If Paradox reacted so strongly to Demona's...offlining, then she must have some sort of relation to her. If we have her talk to Sundance and Jolt, they could benefit from it." Ratchet cut Optimus a look, "and while we're on that subject, _you _need to return to your quarters and recharge. After you've rested, I want you to see Sundance and Jolt. The more they see others that were bonded to Demona, the higher the chances of their survival get."

Optimus nodded mutely. Ratchet paused to look him over once more, "Go refuel and recharge, Optimus. Thats an order. I promise I will look after them."

Optimus hesitated, uncertain, then nodded his head. Reluctantly, he moved away and started for the door. Leaving the med bay that day was one of the hardest things he'd ever done.

* * *

><p>Three.<p>

Three terrible, long, spark-wrenching days.

Ratchet felt numb as he stood there in the quarantined room, looking at his youngest student and seeing the mech so completely broken. Damaged in places that he could never repair, ruined so deep within his spark that he was only a husk of what he was. Online and offline at once, spark-break had already killed Jolt in more ways than one.

His optics were still lit, but they were dim and pale in color. They didn't move or focus. He was sitting up, but only because Ratchet had shifted him that way after checking his vital signs, hoping that the change would have helped him respond.

No. Jolt had not improved.

Sundance was curled into a tight ball on his lap. She was handling it better, it seemed. More aware, sometimes she would call out to Jolt, her voice weak with desperation and broken with pain. He never answered her. Each time her search for comfort failed, she'd curl a little tighter, withdrawing further into herself.

Ratchet was thankful that she at least was showing some sort of improvement, even though she refused to acknowledge anyone else. This meant that she had a better chance of surviving the loss. At the same time, Ratchet hated it. How horrible it must feel to lose both creators at once, one to the Well and the other to his grief. Ratchet knew that Jolt's silence was inflicting more damage to the sparkling, that it was twisting and maiming her.

Primus, he wished the young mech would wake up and hold her. It wouldn't bring Demona back, but it would save his sparkling.

Ratchet was trying to stay hopeful, but his long history of experience in the war made him doubt. He had seen spark-break often in the early years of the war. Their chances of pulling through this were slim at the beginning, and becoming nonexistent. Jolt was not responding at all to the needs of his child, and she was suffering for it. How much more could they take?

Ratchet approached on heavy feet. Sundance didn't move or speak in reaction, not even when he stroked a few fingers down her back. Not so much as a flinch or a peep. The sparkling wanted to be held and spoken to, but she wouldn't have it from anyone but her surviving parent.

Ratchet left them. Every time he left the room, he was heavier. Older. He pushed them from his processor, focusing on darker things. He had bodies to prep for burial.

* * *

><p>Rex really, really, <em>really <em>hated sunny Saturdays.

He despised how cheerful and warm it was outside while he stood, crammed between Shark and Gears beneath trees packed with singing birds. He fucking hated them, too, living in a perfect little dream as they built up their nests. They didn't care that there was a funeral happening here. They didn't care that a little boy and the best of the autobots were being buried today.

Leaning against Shark to take pressure off of his injuries from this freaking jets, Rex ignored the perfectly rectangle holes in the ground and took role of everyone that was there.

Autobots of all shapes and sizes. They formed the middle ring, standing in a wide circle around the service with their backs to the outside world, and almost protecting everyone inside. Men and women in uniform, organized in neat military lines. Some of the old N.E.S.T. members were there, Lennox and Epps, Sam Wit-wonky and that weirdo Simmons. Themselves at the very heart, closest to the graves. Rex, Shark, Gears and some of Gears' family. Optimus was standing directly behind them, with Ironhide, Ratchet and Jazz on either side. They were nearest to them because they'd been closest to the family. On the outside of their group were civilians and some noisy-ass news reporters.

They were all solemn, even Mudflap and Skidz, and somehow that made it worse. God, Rex wished Pockets was there. But he was too beat up still, and Jo was with him.

The presentation memorial thing was broken up into speeches by some religious bald guy in a suit and Optimus, one for Critter and one for Dem. The minister said something about Critter going to heaven or some crap like that on God's promise. Rex knew better. Hell, they all did. Critter wouldn't stand to be anywhere but with his sister. It had always been like that, and always would be.

Optimus was next. He was the one who brought the caskets in, holding them so very gently in his giant hands, one for each. Gears wanted the two of her kids buried together somehow, and the big boss had willingly agreed.

In one box was Critter, the elaborate case layered like a rose in Demona's battle-damaged armor, so she could protect him even in death. The other plates had been saved as well, for Gears and Pockets and even himself when the time came. The other was a clear casing, purely cybertronian and the same size as Critter's. Inside the alloys was her darkened spark chamber, all the ragged edges welded back together and cleaned up.

Rex swallowed when each one was tucked into a grave with the gentleness of a baby being placed in a cradle. Optimus pulled something like a metal bowling ball out of his subspace and pushed it into the earth between them. It shuddered and unfolded, growing legs that burrowed into the earth. A light shown from it, displaying a 3-D holographic image of Demona carrying the kid around on her shoulder.

Both of them were happy, her expression soft with her special small smile and his face split with a grin. Gears sucked in a breath of air through her teeth. Rex reached for her, drawing an arm across her shoulders. She leaned into him, fresh tears wetting her face.

Optimus' baritone was soft, concluding the service with pain and saddened acceptance in his blue optics. "Be whole and exist in peace together, untouched by time, and never be forgotten by those left waiting in life. Until all are one, younglings."

"Until all are one," The autobots mumbled in unison, inclining their heads. Rex looked away, unable to stare at the graves any longer. His eyes canned the soft, green hills around them. He paused when he saw her, kneeling to stare through the trees. Lean and tall, a white femme watching them from a distance.

When he rubbed at his eyes and looked again, she was gone.

* * *

><p>The sparkling despised the decepticon overlord, fragile frame taunt with his hatred. He fought to escape or perhaps even harm, writhing and hissing in Megatron's claws. He lifted the abomination, up high and into the artificial light of their temporary base on the moon. He narrowed his optics at the tiny mech, full of the same spirit that had been in his creator.<p>

Decepticon fury trapped in an autobot body. This one had potential, too, if he was raised carefully within their ranks. Megatron planned, watching the sparkling's blue optics flash. Blue, like its father's. His lip plates twisted back over serrated dentals, and Megatron allowed his hand to drop back to his side. The little one gave a disgruntled whine at the treatment. It was ignored. Turning to his assembled officers, Megatron called for the one he knew would _not _fail him.

"Soundwave!"

The most loyal of his soldiers immediately turned to him and stepped forward. Megatron approached, holding the sparkling out to him as if he was offering a gift. "_You _will raise this creature, among your cassettes where it can be monitored and disciplined at all times. Ensure that he becomes a powerful warrior, and _teach _him to be a _loyal _decepticon."

If Soundwave wanted to argue, he didn't show it. He plucked the sparkling from Megatron's claws without complaint, the visor covering his face offering no clue as to what he was thinking. Megatron watched in amusement as the sparkling lashed out wildly at his retreating claw, trying his hardest to hurt him in return for stealing his creator away. "Do not fail me, Soundwave. I will tolerate no more mistakes on something of this nature."

Soundwave gave the subtlest of nods. "Soundwave acknowledges." It was all the mech offered, but it was enough. Megatron knew the mech would not disappoint him.

"Very good." Megatron dismissed the mech, turning his attention to Shockwave instead. "How soon can you prepare the construction on Driller?"

"It will take several earth rotations before I can secure the necessary supplies required. I will need a space large enough to designate to construction."

Megatron nodded, "Take what you need." He looked out towards the distant earth, red optics shining as a feral grin pulled at his face. "We have dealt a blow to the autobot forces. Demona's bonded will suffer the same fate as well as any other offspring they created, and the femme 'Paradox' has abandoned the autobot ranks. One less medic, several less potential enemy soldiers."

It had been a time since Megatron had last tasted victory. Though it was a small one, it was sweet with the knowledge that he had finally taken his revenge for Demona's betrayal.

The sparkling screamed in his rage, the sound becoming faint as Soundwave retreated into some den deep within the ship where his cassettes awaited him. Megatron swore to keep a close optic on this one, refusing to make the same mistakes as before.

* * *

><p><strong>Poor babies.<br>**

**As mentioned earlier, this will probably become a little three-part arc, and each part will time-skip to show the characters adjusting at different ages. One of the reasons why its so long and so painfully drawn out is that one of the main motives for writing this was to see how a tragedy could affect so many different characters at once, so we got a piece of everyone's way of coping. **

**I had to take a break from _The Rarest Kind. _Romantic crap is difficult for me to write now . and on top of that I had chapter 23 almost finished annnd a Trojan got into my computer and I ended up losing everything I had in recovery. Just happened to have THIS on a flash drive, though. Which I'm glad, because I don't think I could handle typing this all up again. **

**Demona and her family and the story belongs to me. Transformers and all original characters don't. **


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